Jonathan Sims

John hadn't presumed that Martin would agree — it seemed about as likely that he might prefer to win at least one small victory against his own exhaustion — and he brightens when Martin goes along with it. Granted, he's never washed someone else's hair before, but it's not like it's complicated. The hardest part will probably just be keeping himself perched on the edge of the tub, as that would seem to offer the best angle of approach (if not the most comfortable seating).

He starts to rise, and then realizes that rinsing is going to be an issue, too. Their shower-head isn't the maneuverable sort, and he doesn't want to ask Martin to stand up. But they must have a cup big enough for the job. Probably gentler than the shower-head's water pressure, too. "Hang on," he says, levering himself the rest of the way up, "I'll be right back."

It only takes a little rummaging in the kitchen to find a large, plastic tumbler, and he returns to the bathroom with the new prize in hand. "This should help," he says, giving it an illustrative waggle before setting it on the sink. He then rolls up his shirtsleeves, arching an eyebrow down at Martin. "Hope you're ready to be spoiled to within an inch of your life," he says with a wry, teasing smile. "This'll be downright decadent."