---
"Ask," John said.
"I need a bath," Sera said, with the fatal candor of a woman who had stopped pretending she was made of incense. "The temple washroom is full of eyes and careful rules. I have dust where dust does not belong. May I use your washroom."
John's eyes widened a fraction. His mouth did what mouths do when their owner would rather not rehearse this conversation. "Here."
"Yes," Sera said. "If it is not a burden."
Fizz cut in like a hero saving a scene. "Yes. Absolutely. The tub is already here. I will make the water polite. It will bow to you. It will say thank you for stepping into it."
Sera touched her collarbone, the closest thing she had to a laugh oven. "Thank you, Fizz."
John turned his head toward Fizz, expression flat, voice very quiet. "Why did you say yes."
Fizz blinked. "Because she asked."
