Chronicle:A Home better than Most

"Home sweet home, baby!"

The door into the rather mundane two-room (perhaps three if you stretched it) accommodation burst open to the bubbly cheer of a ridiculously armed woman with various firearms and kit slung over her deceptively lithe frame.

"It's a glorified motel, boss." A gruff voice called out from under the walk-in kitchen, now also impromptu armory since the two's semi-permanent residence in the place. She recognized the exasperated tone all too well.

"Ai, there's a soft bed and AC, that's enough for me." The door slammed behind her. She pulled off her balaclava, and took in a deep breath. She regretted it immediately after.

Iha's head peeked up from below the counter, his eyes scanning the new entry before he stood up to receive her. That would've been what usually happened, but he froze in his steps when he noticed something off. His nose wrinkled.

"Phoenix's tits, you smell like sh... Do you actually have shit on you?"

"Yeeeeeeeeah. You have the bath prepped already, right, I hope?" She didn't wait for an answer as she beelined straight for the bathroom, shedding a trail of stained equipment and clothing behind her. Iha frowned. Kitagała smiled as she made her way in.

It was hot, how she liked it. Steaming, even better. There was a filled bucket and pail to the side, but she didn't bother overmuch with the whole 'clean up before you bathe' business - that's what the bath was for anyways, right? Hair down, gun and tags on counter, pail over head, then in. With a nominal effort to keep her casted arm above the water, she allowed herself to forget her surroundings in the moment. An unseemly squeak escaped her, something odd considering her usual state of being could be aptly described as 'resting bitch face', perhaps odder considering her line of work. Iha could hear her. She knew he could. She didn't care.

She was reminded of more worldly concerns that moment after. Kitagała peeked over the rim of the bathtub, just as he was finished collecting the long trail of belongings she'd let fall onto the floor.

"Hey, Iha. Get me lunch from that place down the street, y'know, the shitty inn with that one good cook, the one with a beard?"

"Everyone has beards here." He replied quite plainly.

"Ai, don't give me that. You know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah, yeah. Try to clean up before you eat, alright?" He dropped the sodden equipment into the bathroom before closing the bathroom door behind her.

With only the ambient bubbling of the bath accompanying her now, Kitagała resumed her trance. Inch by inch, she sank further into the bath, allowing the water to envelop her frame, until even her face was only barely above the water. It was her own relatively luxurious, self-indulgent form of meditation. The warmth soaked into (almost) every surface of her body, and in this brief respite in her tumultuous duties, she imagined the ceaseless aches persisting across her blemished form dissipating into the surrounding water. It felt nice. Perhaps it was what it'd feel like when everything was over.

The moment ended when Kitagała's ears picked up footsteps from outside. She rose out from the water slowly, sucking up the last vestiges of comfort as she pushed herself up to a more ordinary position in the tub. There was a small knock.

She lingered for a moment, before calling out. "What's for lunch?"

"Something like a kacudon." Iha entered, raising a plastic bag for her to see - though it was opaque. "I think it looks like the ones back home, but lamb."

"Good, good. What're you standing there for? Take it over here!"

"In the bath?" His brows furrowed.

"Where else? C'mon! Gimme." She made greedy motions with her fingers.

With a shake of the head, he dragged over a stool to the side of the tub, plopping the package down on it as he then seated himself on the nearby toilet. He began the daunting task of examining her equipment for salvageability, whereas she began her own task of untying a knot with one hand while half-stuck in the bath.

"There's something to be said about a warrior never letting their guard down." He questioned, though it was more a distraction from the reek.

"Ai, we have enough firepower in this room to wipe out half the town." She circled the duffel bags tucked in the corner with a finger for emphasis. "We're shooting at each other half that time as it is, so I'm having fun with whatever downtime we have. Life's shiiiiiit if you're jumpy all the time." She seethed the words through her teeth as she kept picking at the plastic bag with mixed results.

"That reminds me, boss. Big boss' been complaining about all the bribes she's had to pay out for your guns." She was a lot less polite with her wording in his memory. "She's telling me to tell you to stop bringing more in, or she's going to start taking it out of your paycheck."

"Tell her 'I said so' when we eventually need to use them, won't you? It's better to have them and not need it than the opposite, anyways. Kinda like condoms if you think about it, with how rare they are around here, yeah?" She stabbed her fingers through the plastic and ripped a hole in the material.

Iha gave Kitagała a doubtful look. She replied with an innocent smile.

The two entered a comfortable silence with one another, both cleaning their own variety of messes. One was busy scrubbing out stains from the meters of webbing that made up the other's kit. That other was mellowly scrubbing herself clean of sand, soot, and miscellaneous grime. She hummed a hymn to herself - lyricless, but common enough that he joined in the harmony. It'd seem a tranquil scene if one didn't know the unspoken contents of the Infernalist hymn.

The silence would eventually be broken by a gurgling from the bathtub as cloudy water coursed down a now-open drain. A similar noise sounded from the corner of the room. The tub was refilled again to the steamy brim - because of course it was - and Kitagała opened up her meal to enjoy. There wasn't much enjoyment to be had without her dominant hand to use. She reseated herself about a dozen times before she sucked it up and started eating from a particularly awkward angle in the tub.

Iha raised a brow. "You know, boss, this wouldn't be a problem if you were just the slightest bit more careful about where you go jumping. I read the report. A 'foxhole', really?"

She pursed her lips. "Shush, you. What mongrel tribe digs a grave that small anyways? And fills it with shit, even. I couldn't even go to the bonfire after that mess."

"By the Phoenix," Chuckles all around. "How did you even break something down there? You better hope it heals well, or you're going to be reminded of that for the rest of your life."

"Ai, it was a long drop, alright?" She said between swallows. "Besides, you were after me all that time ago because of these scars anyways. What's wrong with a few more?"

He made a face as he cleaned his hands. "That's beside the point..."

"Stop worrying, you. I can do more things with one hand than most can do with both. You know yourself how many times I've gotten into something like this, no?" She raised her casted arm up, slightly wet from the long bath. It was a worthy sacrifice.

"So many things, and yet not chopsticks, apparently." He caught her stabbing at her food with the utensils awkwardly stuffed between her fingers.

Her lips pinched into a white line. "I have my priorities."

The next minute was spent with him arranging the cleaned articles of kit on a nearby bench, with Kitagała's antics with eating as an amusing sideshow. There was the occasional chuckle when she let slip a strip of noodles, or dangled a particularly slippery piece of meat. It seemed the food itself was fighting against her.

She put down her chopsticks with a frown. After a second of deliberation, her lips drew apart in a shit-eating grin. Kitagała locked eyes with Iha.

"Feed me."

"Are you serious."

Her grin only grew wider.

Iha sighed in resignation, and picked up the package with a hand.

"Open wide, you big baby."

Kitagała leaned back, complying.