Bathtime Follies.

(Sometimes, RP needs no embellishment. The stage is set: Bernard is bathing, as he likes to do a great deal, in the public baths.)

Bernard sinks back into the tub happily and warmly, closing his eyes.

Bernard hums echoingly.

Rankin arrives through the main door.

Rankin tumbles inwardly, "Haaalp! I've got tharr cooties!!"

Rankin tosses two tumblers of whiskey everywhere.

Rankin forgetfully chucks a fresh thick lemongrass-flavored cigar on the floor.

You blink at Rankin.

Bernard sits up in his brass tub.

Julian offers a bar of lavender soap to Rankin.

Rankin takes a bar of lavender soap from Julian.

You say, "Cooties?"

> look rankin

You look at Rankin.

Rankin is an enormous hulking rat, with wild, scraggly raven fur, and long ill-kempt blue black hair, worn in savage dreadlocks. He is carrying a bar of lavender soap. He is wearing a gold Stormbreaker Crew ring, a loose-fitting sharkskin double-wrap belt, a black wool belt pouch, a cotton money pouch, a raffish shimmering black sharkskin pirate jacket, a sheathed well-worn iron dagger, a ruby and silver scroll necklace, a pair of subtly-worn black suede fingerless gloves, an aquamarine glass and pyrite ring, a pair of polished gold hoop earrings, a bronze sword scabbard, a snugly-fitted black bronze chainmail tail warmer, a pair of roomy murky black leather breeches, a pair of hefty murky black leather pirate boots, a grubby white cotton ruffled shirt and an oversized skull-and-crossbones sharkskin tricorn hat.

Rankin hops up-and-down, "Gimme that soap ye blaggard!"

Rankin totally ignores you.

Bernard seems very glad to be ignored!

Rankin moves from the main door to a brass bathtub.

Rankin hurries towards a brass bathtub.

Rankin totally disregards his raffish shimmering black sharkskin pirate jacket, his pair of roomy murky black leather breeches and his pair of hefty murky black leather pirate boots, "No time, nae time a'tall! I've gotta save m'self!"

Rankin literally heaves his beer gut into a brass bathtub.

Rankin jumps into a brass bathtub.

Bernard watches this scenario with something akin to mute horror. In fact, it probably is mute horror after all.

Rankin effortfully submerges his enormous hulking body and his grotesque whip-like tattooed tail in a brass bathtub.

Rankin splashes a brass bathtub everywhere.

Bernard flicks his ears in annoyance, as water droplets spatter into him.

Rankin visibly pushes a bar of lavender soap into his pair of roomy murky black leather breeches.

You blink.

Rankin scrubs his lap, "Aaargh! It itches!!"

Rankin flails generally.

You say, "What does?"

Rankin finally notices you.

Rankin dangerously tilts a brass bathtub with his enormous hulking body, "Tharr cooties! Missus Noire said tha' when ye git 'em, yer nobbles fall off an' ye don' e'en know when ye 'ave 'em!"

Rankin scrubs his pair of roomy murky black leather breeches and his beer gut with a bar of lavender soap faster, "Aaargh!"

Rankin washes his enormous hulking body with a bar of lavender soap.

You say, "Are you sure she wasn't having you on?"

Rankin appears to be drunk.

Rankin also appears to be about as smart as a bag of rocks when he is this hammered.

You say, "Calm down, I am sure you heard her wrong."

Rankin scrubs himself faster, "Cannae be too safe, aye!? They both tole meh!"

Rankin sprays a brass bathtub everywhere.

You say, "All right, all right! I think you killed the cooties!"

Bernard ducks as much as he can, given his trapped position.

Rankin pantingly slows himself.

Rankin stands in a brass bathtub.

Bernard opens one eye testingly.

Rankin drunkenly points a bar of lavender soap at you, "Ye sure?!"

Bernard wishes he hadn't.

Rankin accidentally squeezes a bar of lavender soap.

Rankin slickly chucks a bar of lavender soap at you.

You say, "It looks like you did a good job to...."

You yelp.

Rankin shifts his beady jet-black eyes faintly, "Oops. Sorry mate."

Bernard ducks, too late! The soap lands in his mane and slides down his chest into the water.

Rankin wobbles with a brass bathtub back-and-forth.

Rankin hauls his grotesque whip-like tattooed tail from a brass bathtub.

You say, "...me."

Rankin moves from a brass bathtub to the floor.

Rankin practically crawls onto the floor.

Rankin moves from the floor to a brass bathtub.

Rankin sloshes a brass bathtub over a bathhouse passingly,

Rankin says, "...Ol'roight....Bes' I make sure ter see th' Doc' 'Ush."

Bernard nods enthusiastically.

You say, "Good idea."

Rankin moves from a brass bathtub to the main door.

Rankin plods towards the main door unhurriedly.

Rankin noticeably sloshes his pair of hefty murky black leather pirate boots.

Bernard plucks the soap from the water and drops it aside, afraid that its soaplike qualities are forever compromised from touching Rankin's breeches.

Rankin jumps up-and-down around the main door.

Rankin somewhat dries himself.

You say, "You be careful out there, so you don't freeze. Maybe run to the infirmary."

Rankin grumblingly reaches for two tumblers of whiskey, a cup of orange pekoe tea and a fresh thick lemongrass-flavored cigar, "Aye..mebbie.."

Rankin takes two tumblers of whiskey.

Rankin peers at the floor and a fresh thick lemongrass-flavored cigar now, "....I got me cigar all soaked."

Rankin colorfully swears.

Rankin takes a fresh thick lemongrass-flavored cigar.

You say, "Maybe it will dry out?"

Rankin grumps at you audibly, "Aye, aye. They do. Jes' moight 'ave ter chew it 'stead."

Rankin peers downwardly at his lap and his long ill-kempt blue black hair, "...They'll be'er be gone."

You say, "I certainly hope they are."

Rankin puts his fresh thick lemongrass-flavored cigar into his black wool belt pouch.

Rankin examines his black wool belt pouch.

Bernard glances at the towel rack, oh so far away, and just stays put.

Rankin grumblingly stomps out through the main door.

You hear a man hollering "It's feckin' COLD out 'ere!" from the main door.