Harrow stays just as she is for a moment, letting the warmth of the water soak into her, soothing her. Compared to Gideon's scalding showers, Harrow's bath is no better than tepid, but it's still warmer than sponge baths and sonics on the Ninth; still a luxury. Gideon clears her throat, and Harrow cracks open one eye, turning to look at her. She catches the easy bend of her body, the line of her wrist as she picks up her teacup, and something about it makes the corner of her mouth go up.

Carefully, she sits up, reaching for the mug balanced at the corner of the tub. "Thank you, Nav."