Martin giggles again, feeble and weary but genuinely charmed, imagining the look on their odd recurring patron's face if he came in with a, with a top hat or something. This is all very silly. He wishes he could match the silliness, but right now he hasn't got the focus for it. Instead, it is a gentle relief when John turns back to the task at hand, and Martin lets out a happy sigh as he relaxes and tips his head back, letting John pour water over him and wash the suds away.

It feels so good. Martin blinks his eyes open, squinting up at John, and he smiles, soft and warm and hopelessly fond.