It doesn't take Martin long to rid himself of the rest of his clothes, and John watches him step into the tub, ready to offer a hand if Martin needs steadying (or if he gauged the temperature wrong, and Martin wants to make a quick exit). But it seems such assistance isn't required, and Martin lowers himself into the water with a sigh that could easily pass for 'relieved.'

For a moment, John isn't sure what to do with himself. Standing feels absurd, and the only chair-adjacent object in the room is the toilet, which feels a little undignified, even with the lid down. The floor probably isn't much better, at least as far as dignity is concerned, but it feels more companionable, if only because it would put John more on Martin's level. So, after that beat of consideration, he sits down on the bath mat, facing Martin, legs loosely folded with one knee pitched up against the outer wall of the tub. It's a little awkward, sure, but nothing he can't weather for the duration of a bath.

"Comfortable?" he asks, returning Martin's faint smile.