Sol didn't open his eyes. He figured it was Kira coming in to finish her lecture or toss a boot at his head for running off.
"I told you I'm sorry," Sol muttered casually into the quiet room, continuing to drag the rough cloth over his calloused knuckles. "The water's already green anyway, so if you're here to yell, keep it short."
He didn't hear a verbal reply, only the soft, nearly silent rustle of fabric dropping onto the wooden floorboards, followed by the light friction of bare feet stepping across the room.
A pair of small, cool hands suddenly settled directly onto his broad shoulders.
The fingers were long, delicate, and shifted with a precise, fluid touch. But the moment the skin made contact, Sol's nostrils picked up a scent that definitely didn't belong to Kira.
It wasn't the sweet, wild smell of her. Instead, it was the rich, heavy fragrance of crushed lotus, swamp lilies, and a faint, sweet trace of raw spiritual herbs.
