[The brush is enough to unsettle Kratos's balance, and he needs to recentre himself in a hurry. He grunts with the pang in his knees, but manages not to fall. Still, by the time he reaches the bathroom (far behind Yuan), there's lines of pain around his eyes (joining the few come with age) and his breath has shortened again.]

I think you've ruined my knees.

[He grips the frame of the door gladly and pauses to survey the bathroom. It's economical in a nearly frivolous way, not unlike Tethe'allan style; shower as well as a tub, but both smooth alloy and efficiency, and not the least bit homey.]

No soap?

[It's a teasing prod. Even angels could get dirty.]