Or was it intoxicating because of who it smelled like?

Zefaris didn’t pay it much mind as she dumped the entire phial into the bath. Alongside physical heat, a revitalizing warmth washed over her skin as the Viriditas-infused bath salts dissolved, causing dead skin to slough off and scars to fade. The Emerald Salts were an Ikesian specialty, one that reminded her of home, among other things. It didn’t surprise her that, outside of Ikesia, it never caught on due to the side effect of increased hair growth - regardless of whether this hair was above or below the neckline. As an Ikesian, Zefaris had no reason to worry about such things, as body hair was rare even among men beyond barely-visible peach fuzz.

This was part of the reason why she rarely found herself attracted to foreigners - they were all. So. Hairy. Those who went to the lengths of removing such barbaric growth were more often than not far out of her league in terms of social standing.

She managed to busy herself for a few minutes with thoughts like these, recalling utterly inane details for the sole purpose of distracting herself from those four jokingly-said words. But every time, her train of thought returned to that challenge. Zefaris took to meticulously scrubbing every inch of her body with the provided sea-sponge, shaving down half of the soap-stick in her attempt to cleanse the filth that had doubtlessly seeped into her skin over the months she had spent in the Exclusion Zone.

Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. Soap. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub… Chest, arms, shoulders, neck...

A bright-red flower petal floating on the water. The realization that she hadn’t untied her hair. A frustrated sigh, untying the piece of cord that held her hair in place, leaving the poppy flower in her hand, sans one petal. That half-joking challenge on her mind, she began to pluck the petals, one by one. At first glance she thought the poppy had five petals remaining, and subconsciously began with the outcome she wanted, as if to simultaneously place the responsibility of choice on an inanimate object while still getting the desired outcome.

“Don’t do it…” she thought when the first petal came off.

“Do it…” came the second petal.

“Don’t do it…” the third petal said.

“Do it…” said the fourth and final petal.

Her senses were misdirected by the roiling, herbal-smelling steam that filled the bathroom, and she had miscounted. Somehow, she didn’t mind this outcome. She thought herself clean enough, and looked around the bathroom for a towel.

No towel.

She didn’t mind this either.

Water still pouring from her, she forcefully opened the door, met with the sight of Zelsys lazily splayed out on the bed, Tablet in hand. Her gaze flicked up from whatever she was reading to meet hers, and even though the lower half of her face was obscured, Zefaris felt the grin spreading over her features.

Zelsys reached for the crumpled-up, damp towel that lay beside her as if asking if to toss it over.