When they returned to the sleeping quarters, Hancock, wholly captivated, followed Lloyd directly into the bedroom, leaving Monet and the others exchanging uneasy glances behind her.
Shirahoshi felt the sting of it but could not bring herself to tears; Hancock had gotten there first.
The moment Hancock stepped through the bedroom door, the regal bearing she had carried moments ago dissolved entirely. She reverted at once to her usual flustered self, standing beside the bed with her head lowered, fingers nervously working at the hem of her clothes.
Lloyd watched her and felt a quiet amusement settle over him.
"Hancock, how long are you going to stand there?"
At that, Hancock crossed the room quickly and reached up to undo the buttons of his shirt.
"Forgive me. I will help you change at once."
Before she could do so, however, Lloyd drew her into his arms.
He settled onto the edge of the bed with Hancock against him, one hand moving unhurried across the lines of her figure. He was no stranger to such moments, and it took very little time before the inexperienced Hancock was left with her eyes rolled back and a warmth rising through her that she could not contain.
A flush crept from the fair column of her neck all the way to the tips of her ears. Her breath came soft and quick, and she looked entirely undone.
Lloyd remarked with quiet amusement, "Hancock, I rather preferred the way you carried yourself on the walk back. Can you manage that again?"
Hancock caught her lower lip lightly between her teeth. Her voice came out unsteady.
"I, I would not dare. Please stop teasing me, it is unbearable..."
She raised her hand and clutched at his clothing, pressing herself deeper into his hold.
The thin fabric between them did nothing to blunt the heat radiating from her, but Lloyd remained unhurried. He simply brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead with the tips of his fingers and said quietly,
"You are perspiring. Better to bathe before bed."
Hancock drew a steadying breath and gathered herself enough to push upright from his arms. Her voice, when she found it again, carried a deliberately composed lilt.
"Saint Lloyd, please allow Hancock to attend you."
Lloyd offered a slight smile and rose, and Hancock immediately stepped close, slipping her arm through his.
They moved together toward the door.
Hancock reached out and pulled it open, and two startled yelps rang out, followed by two solid thuds.
Hancock blinked, momentarily thrown.
Saint Shalria and Sugar were sprawled on the floor.
"Saint Shalria, Sugar, you were at the door... oh."
Hancock got only halfway through the thought before the full picture landed on her. She wheeled around in mortification and pressed herself into Lloyd's side.
Lloyd had already known they were there. He looked down at the two of them with an expression of languid interest, one hand resting in his pocket, and leaned forward slightly.
"You two have a great deal of spare time. You especially, Sugar. You are growing bolder by the day. Eavesdropping now, is it?"
Shalria dropped her head, cheeks blazing, staring fixedly at the floor.
Sugar's wide eyes shifted about rapidly. She stretched her mouth into a smile and said,
"Young Master, I only came to call Saint Shalria to bathe. If you and Saint Shalria still have matters to discuss, I will simply head back now."
With that, Sugar's lower body dissolved into a small whirlwind and she swept away with a whoosh down the corridor, leaving Shalria kneeling alone on the ground in disarray.
It had been Sugar who pushed her into this in the first place. And now Sugar had fled.
What a situation.
It was not going to be quite so simple for Sugar, however.
Lloyd watched her go with an unhurried expression and raised one hand slowly.
A dark vortex coiled in his palm.
The gravitational pull was like an invisible fist closing around her, and Sugar, who had already reached the door of her own room, was hauled back through the air and landed on the floor again with another solid thud.
Sugar pressed both hands to her sore bottom, climbed to her feet, and looked up at Lloyd with an injured expression.
"I was wrong, Young Master..."
Lloyd tapped her lightly on the forehead. Under Sugar's glassy, aggrieved stare, he said with measured reproof,
"I gave you the Wind-Wind Fruit this very afternoon, and already you are using it to flee. It seems I will need to correct that."
He reached down and lifted her by the back of her collar.
Then he turned to look at Shalria, who had adopted the posture of someone wishing to disappear entirely into the floor.
"You as well. Come along. We are all bathing."
Hancock helped Shalria to her feet.
Being caught eavesdropping at a bedroom door was not the sort of thing Shalria had any prior experience with, and the shame of being caught on top of it made her face burn fiercely. She could not bring herself to raise her eyes at all. Hancock steadied her by the arm, and together they filed into the bathroom.
Monet had not gone to rest. She had already drawn the bath and was rising from beside the tub when the group arrived.
She straightened and bowed.
"Young Master, the water is ready. Shall I attend, or..."
She glanced up and took in Sugar dangling from Lloyd's grip and Hancock hovering at his side with a scarlet face.
Lloyd gestured toward the tub behind her, wide as a small pool.
"There is plenty of room. Take your clothes off."
Monet smiled lightly and without any hesitation, she untied the loose bathrobe she wore. It slid to the floor, and she stood composed, unhurried, entirely at ease.
Lloyd released his hold, and Sugar made a small noise as she hit the ground, then stripped herself bare with impressive speed.
Hancock removed her own clothes with quiet grace and then, nude and composed, moved naturally to Lloyd's side and began undoing his shirt, unconcerned about what she was displaying.
Shalria, standing off to the side, watched the whole scene with wide eyes and could not move.
Monet, Hancock, and Sugar had all been at Lloyd's side since they were young. Matters such as this held no awkwardness for them anymore. The sole distinction was that, compared to Monet, Hancock and Sugar remained one threshold removed from the final step.
Hancock folded Lloyd's clothes with care and set them in the closet.
She turned back, pressed close, and at the first contact of skin, a shiver ran through her from head to toe. Her limbs went unreliable beneath her.
It was not as though such closeness was new to them. There had been afternoons in the pool, other moments scattered across the years. But the quality of the air tonight was different, and Hancock could not hold herself steady within it.
Her legs gave way. She began to slide.
Lloyd caught her before she reached the floor and, in one motion, swept her up into his arms.
He laughed, clear and unguarded, and jumped into the tub.
Water surged and splashed in a wide arc.
Monet stood at the edge watching him, a quiet smile on her face. Then she and Sugar, who scrambled over excitedly, stepped in after them.