[The places where Yuan chooses to draw the line of dignity and modesty are continuously fascinating. Thus disroped, Kratos nudges the pants away from the bath and turns to see the way Yuan is emphatically not looking, and huffs with fond exasperation.]

You haven't changed a bit.

[Yuan was always the most modest of the seraphim. Kratos used to wonder how he'd managed to retain that trait, during the war; but it wasn't the sort of question one asked. Martel took care of the aspects likely to be trouble, anyway.

[But that's all Kratos says before he accepts the help of Yuan's arm. He can't put too much weight on it, or he might open the wounds on his wrist just closing over; but the arm is enough to steady him into the tub, despite the sharp aches which strike up while he does so. Getting down is not quite so easy, when he has to be careful of weight on his wrists, but he manages that as well, and sinks back with a sigh, resting his hands on the sides of the tub.]

This is going to start becoming a trend, if we're not careful.

[Kratos needing a hot bath, let alone needing Yuan's help to do so, that is.]