[There's a lingering glare; he's so much more than a mullet.
He's not getting any more endeared to standing there outside of the tub; the floor's cold and he stinks. Once he's sure he's reached a suitable quota of glaretime (read as: gotten his point accross, except Lance is a pain and will incur his wrath again in no time) he's stepping in behind Lance, facing the wall, arms crossed...
HE'S BARELY GETTING ANY WATER?]
Just move the nozzle, you're taking up the whole tub.
[While reaching for the shampoo, which is entirely useless unless he can get his hair soaked in clean, neutral-smelling water rather than the triple-E contaminant currently in his hair.]
no subject
He's not getting any more endeared to standing there outside of the tub; the floor's cold and he stinks. Once he's sure he's reached a suitable quota of glaretime (read as: gotten his point accross, except Lance is a pain and will incur his wrath again in no time) he's stepping in behind Lance, facing the wall, arms crossed...
HE'S BARELY GETTING ANY WATER?]
Just move the nozzle, you're taking up the whole tub.
[While reaching for the shampoo, which is entirely useless unless he can get his hair soaked in clean, neutral-smelling water rather than the triple-E contaminant currently in his hair.]