Martin dutifully takes John's bag and sets it gingerly aside before waiting as he strips away all his wet clothes with clear discomfort. Martin clicks his tongue in soft sympathy, though he can't help smiling at John's absolutely pitiful remark.
"It must be bad if you're worrying about our bad luck," he teases gently with a nod to the umbrella. He waits for the socks to go before wrapping the other towel around John's shoulders, pulling it close in an effort to warm him. "Poor darling. We'll get you all sorted."
The kettle starts to whistle, and The Bishop roams over to investigate the pile of wet clothes at John's feet. "Now, now," Martin says as he bends down to scoop it all up, leaving The Bishop to dote on John instead. He straightens and makes for the kitchen, switching the kettle off before heading into the WC to drape the garments over the edge of the tub. Best to let them drip out a little before dumping them in the hamper. Then he bustles off to the bedroom, fetching John's robe and hurrying back to trade it for the other towel.
"You go and have a sit," he says firmly. "I'll get that tea."
no subject
"It must be bad if you're worrying about our bad luck," he teases gently with a nod to the umbrella. He waits for the socks to go before wrapping the other towel around John's shoulders, pulling it close in an effort to warm him. "Poor darling. We'll get you all sorted."
The kettle starts to whistle, and The Bishop roams over to investigate the pile of wet clothes at John's feet. "Now, now," Martin says as he bends down to scoop it all up, leaving The Bishop to dote on John instead. He straightens and makes for the kitchen, switching the kettle off before heading into the WC to drape the garments over the edge of the tub. Best to let them drip out a little before dumping them in the hamper. Then he bustles off to the bedroom, fetching John's robe and hurrying back to trade it for the other towel.
"You go and have a sit," he says firmly. "I'll get that tea."