Garrison stifled a laugh, hanging the replacement clothing on the stall's wall beside him to keep them dry. "Well, hot rain is usually faster than a bath of any kind. You might like to use this." He moved around, showing Nathaniel the plastic bottle off soap, which smelled like clover. It was often some of the freshest-smelling substances on the ship, aside from food that was cooked in the mornings and evenings. Or what was considered mornings and evenings.

Without so much cloth on him, Garrison could see just how small Nathaniel was. Thin, elegant and delicate, perhaps just like the rest of the race he came from. Beautiful, for a male, that was a fact, but Garrison didn't stare. He wasn't a pervert, but couldn't say the same for everyone else.