Conley Brothers

She nodded a little "yes, wipe off blood and dirt" she lidted the bucket or clean warm water and a sponge. "It's ok if you don't want me to" she added. She did not want to make him uncomfortable in any way.
 
It was nice of her to offer, but he knew there was no real choice. He supposed it would be nice to be cleaned up. Miserable while it was happening, but he knew he had to stink. So he nodded, his horns making the motion more exaggerated as he dipped his head. "Yes," he murmured. "Eat first?"
 
She gave another nod of her own "yes, go ahead. I will wait" she told him, still not coming in or anything, letting him have his space
 
Claudius eyed her for a moment before diving into his food. He never fully took his eyes off her. Though his face and the majority of his body seemed human, his moments were entirely animalistic. She was there to hurt him or take his food. He needed to finish that before either happened. Then come what may.

He cleaned his plate in record time, even licking the plate before downing the water eagerly. Then he slid the tray back toward her, his frantic actions ceased, and a tiredness falling over him. He dipped his head, resigned and waiting. He was used to a dash of a bucket of water or even a hose being his "bath time," and while it was usually cold and miserable, being cleaner was nice.
 
When he was ready she climbed in and inched closer before dipping the sponge and holding it out so he could smell it was just water "I'll be gentle" she promised him
 
What was this? She wasn't just dumping the water over him? He inched sideways to move away from his nest of rags, still afraid they'd get wet, then he held still, regarding her with cautious curiosity. What was this going to be like?
 
She guessed by the way he eyed the sponge he didn't know what it was or how thks worked so she gently wiped his arm a little with the warm water so he could feel what it was like first "this ok?" She asked
 
Claudius shifted uneasily, not used to having someone so close to him, but it did not hurt. The sponge was far more effective than the shower of water. He held still, watching her, his arm held stiff.
 
She was gentle and made no sudden moves, after wiping down his arm she dipped the sponge and rung it out then offered it to him, noticing how stiff he was "Want to clean yourself? That's ok too" she didn't want to make him uncomfortable and clearly he was right now
 
He looked at her uncertainly. "I do not understand," he said and tensed, ready for the blow. He knew what the sponge was for, what the water was for, and how to clean himself, though it had been a long time. He did not understand why should be giving it to him. Why was she giving him choices? Was she testing him somehow?
 
"You don't seem to like me close to you, so, do you want to do this yourself?" she tried to explain better "No wrong answer" she added gently "you tell me what you want" she said gently
 
What he wanted? He slowly straightened, staring at her. He could not remember hearing that before. What did he want? He didn't know. He sat confused for a bit, then cautiously reached out and caught the rag with the very tips of his disturbingly long fingers. The nails were so long they looked like actual talons. He didn't say anything, just gave a careful tug.
 
she gave no resistance, letting him take the sponge from her hand. She moved back "I'll wait outside then, when you're done I'll look at the rest of those cuts ok. take your time" she said before climbing back out entirely and putting the canvas tarp back down so he would have privacy to clean up
 
He sat for a moment, holding the cloth, and tried to adjust to what she'd done. To Camilla, it was probably a little thing. To him... He felt as if his brain was going to overload with amazement. She'd just... left him. Alone. To bath. In privacy. He was used to no privacy at all no matter what he was doing. He could be inturrupted at any given moment, but here she was giving him extra time.

Extra time to do something, he reminded himself. His fingers were surprisingly delicate and nimble despite how slow they moved. He washed himself as best he was able, his joints stiff from not stretching much of their own accord. He couldn't reach his back properly, and his hair ended up in a mangled nest atop his head between his three horns, but his arms, legs, torso, and other bits were thoroughly scrubbed. The water was almost black. with muck. He hadn't looked that dirty, but when you didn't bathe regularly or properly for months upon months, it was amazing how much grime got stuck in all sorts of places. His back now looked slightly smudgy and grey from his attempts to wash it.

Now as clean as he could manage, he sat awkwardly for a moment. Was he supposed to call for the woman and tell her he was finished? What if she'd left? Not sure what else to do, he crab-walked on hands and feet over to the bars and started picking at the tarp, trying to lift it without anyone noticing. He wasn't very good at it.
 
Camilla was patiently waiting outside for him to finish, noticing the tarp move a little she stood up and walked over, lifting the corner again, just a little "All finished?" she asked. Camilla was endlessly patient and gentle with everyone, it was part of what made her so likeable to the performers and side shows. She never once judged a person based on their looks and never really got upset or mad. So she was with this new fellow, endlessly patient and gentle. She wouldn't push him, at least she would try not to.
 
Claudius pulled back when the tarp moved and held still as she looked in. "Yes," he rasped out, still cautious. It felt good to be so clean after so long. He felt nearly shiny. All that was left was a good horn polis, a hair scrub, and his back.
 
she offered him a small smile and hooked the corner up again so she could reach up and take the bucket, stepping away a moment to dump it and grab the second bucket, bringing it over "can I wash your hair? and your back?" she asked, noticing the mess on his head and guessed getting to his back was not so easy
 
"Yes," he whispered, eyeing the bucket. Washing his hair? In water? Now that was weird. The bucket didn't look big enough to shove his head under. She'd have to push him face first, not backward. He couldn't see how this could hurt him.
 
after his approval she climbed up again, wouldn't be a perfect wash but she could at least rinse out a lot of the gunk and maybe get some of the dead hair out "Tilt your head back" she prompted him, having a fresh sponge in hand. AFter he complied she squeezed the water over his head so that it ran down back into the bucket, rinsing it that way and very gently working her fingers through his hair with some soap, she hummed softly hoping it might help to keep him relaxed and calm
 
He fidgeted at first, the touch foreign and strange, but slowly he relaxed. Her touch was gentle, and her voice soft. It was nice not to be yelled at or at least spoken to or about calously. It was nice to have hands that touched him nicely, not striking or cold and clinical. She was different.
 
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