( damp, his fingers thread back through pale strands, combing it away from his forehead, from his face, and it's not so unusual a sight; perhaps it would be more shocking to brush all his hair down in front of his face, again, let it cling to his brow the way it did in his youth, when a part of him had hoped he could hide the worst parts of himself, and his life, beneath the shaggy hang of bangs. likewise, the appearance of tseng, stark naked and matter-of-fact as usual, isn't strange either: he watches, waits, pretends to look stunned when the aforementioned bottle of shampoo is held in front of his face like some kind of magical savior.

with his lips curling up into a smile, he tries for a voice of total shock-- )

Oh, is that where it went off to.

( one hand lifts, but tseng is already stretching past him to replace the bottle on the shelf where they both know it belongs--empty, his fingers curl into nothing but the steam of the shower, but there are more important things to reach for.

tseng's hair is curling, slightly, under the burden of the steam, and with a soft click of his tongue, he lets his hand slide over a naked shoulder, shrugging long, dark strands from sticking to the skin; they roll and stick to tseng's back, instead. )

I think you'll need to stay, for the sake of my safety. ( he does, at least, let that hand fall, holding tseng's upper arm to use it as a counter balance, as he steps sidelong, and out of the shower spray. )

Go ahead and get yourself wet. ( he's still smiling as he says it, though he is rounding back for the bottle of shampoo again--so that he can add it to his palm, coax both of his hands up to start working it through his own hair. ) I'll wait.