Jabber

Bruised ribs and blood on the skin, splashes of soapy water, and quiet, manic laughter. You and Jabber had a difficult mission, and the consequences left aching bones and both physical and mental exhaustion. The smell clinging to you both is almost acrid, a mixture of garbage, filth, and sweat. You, obviously, decided to run a bath as soon as you got back, and since water is scarce and the conversation knows no bounds, he decided to join in. Thin trails of steam curl on the surface of the water, interrupted in their lethargic journey by the chatter that splashes and sloshes in the tub as if it were a giant swimming pool, the hot water splattering the floor with each of his reckless movements. He's singing nursery rhymes in the bath, unpleasantly off-key the second the water touches his lips, and he's asked you at least three times to wash his hair; You're completely amazed at how much energy he still has; you think it will never run out.

"Rub the ga gaaaa!~♪..... Heeeeyyyyy.."

His babble escapes, lulled by the warm water. His head falls back, his chin resting on his shoulder, the wide Cheshire grin spreading across his face seeming to grow larger with each passing second. He raises his hand and extends it, waving the bar of soap in front of his face with another wave of sleepy, mad laughter.

"Want to wash my back...?"