"I'm okay," she promises. She probably won't use any of the cosmetic stuff--she just needs the heat, the soak, and to get the saltwater drained out of her hair. Hasi undoes the buttons on the shirt and slips out of the rest of her underwear, sliding into the bath.

It is hot, but that's a good thing for a witch who's meant to have a temperature two or so degrees above normal on a daily basis.

She dips her head back in the water first, closing her eyes, but after a moment being submerged feels like just a little too much too soon--she'll have to do that five-year-old thing of getting her hair wet but not her face. That's okay, she tells herself, ignoring the small surge of panic, forcing it to quell. She's okay now. Hasi sits up with her knees bent, tucked to her chest, so her back and its tattoo are visible, especially after she pushes her wet hair to one side.

"It's too bad," she says, after a silence, giving him a sidelong look, and a ghost of her usual warm smile. "We can't even enjoy this right now."

Her in the bath, him watching. It'd be a nice idea if she weren't fresh off an attempt on her life.