He's got mud in places he didn't think mud could get, and now what he's got is dirt that's hardened into cement squeezing at delicate places as it contracts. Zhaan's rubbing at the cement with all of her salve and promises that by the time he gets back to his quarters (and please god, to a working shower because the virus that Moya's been fighting off is playing havoc with the hot and cold running water and this morning was hot and cold running snot and John would sell his left nut, and possibly his right for a shower) the stuff will loosen enough for him to get his clothes off.
20 minutes later and he gives in, coms Aeryn because there's certain things you don't share with your best buddy, and there are other things you just NEVER share with Chiana and Zhaan's currently figuring out how to get mud off Rygel, which John doesn't envy either.
She takes her sweet time, and when she gets there, he realizes his plight is not a mystery because her mouth keeps twitching and finally, she just starts to laugh.
"Laugh it up," he growls, and quickly swallows the fuzzball because Star Wars is a touchy subject with everyone since the great Han Solo/Chewbacca/Princess Leia debate.
"Raise your arms," she orders, and he resents her in her beauty and laughter and mudfreeness.
"I can't," he says, sounding peevish.
"I wonder if the laser saw..." she muses, and he yells now and she giggles, GIGGLES, again.
"Relax," she says, and if he didn't know better, he'd think she swatted him on the ass.
She's got a pair of shears the size of a Buick and she clips through the back of his shirt, clips the shoulders all along the seams. At the same time, he hears a sucking sound and his pants magically start to unadhere from his skin.
As he undoes his pants, Aeryn peels his shirt off like an orange until he's filthy and naked in front of her save for his boxers.
She smiles at him, at the dirt streaking his body, maybe at something else, and it's a different kind of smile.
"Wanna help me get clean?" he says, and his blood beats hard in his throat.
She smiles again, sultry, an infinite variety of smiles this woman has, and goes to close the privacy curtain.
no subject
20 minutes later and he gives in, coms Aeryn because there's certain things you don't share with your best buddy, and there are other things you just NEVER share with Chiana and Zhaan's currently figuring out how to get mud off Rygel, which John doesn't envy either.
She takes her sweet time, and when she gets there, he realizes his plight is not a mystery because her mouth keeps twitching and finally, she just starts to laugh.
"Laugh it up," he growls, and quickly swallows the fuzzball because Star Wars is a touchy subject with everyone since the great Han Solo/Chewbacca/Princess Leia debate.
"Raise your arms," she orders, and he resents her in her beauty and laughter and mudfreeness.
"I can't," he says, sounding peevish.
"I wonder if the laser saw..." she muses, and he yells now and she giggles, GIGGLES, again.
"Relax," she says, and if he didn't know better, he'd think she swatted him on the ass.
She's got a pair of shears the size of a Buick and she clips through the back of his shirt, clips the shoulders all along the seams. At the same time, he hears a sucking sound and his pants magically start to unadhere from his skin.
As he undoes his pants, Aeryn peels his shirt off like an orange until he's filthy and naked in front of her save for his boxers.
She smiles at him, at the dirt streaking his body, maybe at something else, and it's a different kind of smile.
"Wanna help me get clean?" he says, and his blood beats hard in his throat.
She smiles again, sultry, an infinite variety of smiles this woman has, and goes to close the privacy curtain.