Marchosias placed his heavy boots down under the counter, carefully aligning them side by side. He stood up to his full, imposing height and looked at Zac, his amber eyes narrowing.
"Why aren't you getting undressed? We are already late."
Zac blinked a few times, a wicked glint entering his eyes. He opened his mouth.
"FOR THE BATTLE!" Marchosias quickly barked, his Command Voice slipping out just a fraction to cut off whatever the human was about to say. "Go get in the shower."
Zac snapped his fingers, looking genuinely disappointed that he wasn't able to make a perfectly timed comment about undressing with the Captain. He reached for the zipper of his ruined onesie.
"I'll go get the water heated up, I guess," Zac murmured seductively, pulling the zipper down. "I'll be waiting for you, my muddy puppy. We can scrub each other's-"
"I take cold showers," Marchosias said flatly.
Zac froze, the zipper halfway down his chest. He stared at March for a few long moments. The implications of that statement were horrifying to his comfort-loving soul. "Why?" was all he could finally manage to say.
"Cold water is good for circulation," Marchosias said, turning back to the mirror as he began to undo the buttons of his undershirt with stiff, mechanical movements. "And it is good for the mind."
Zac stepped into the massive, multi-headed shower enclosure and kicked off his muddy footie pajamas, tossing them into a pile near the door. "Fuck that noise," Zac called out over the hiss of the water starting. "I'm taking a hot shower. See you in there."
Zac felt deeply conflicted about not waiting around as long as possible to watch the wolfman undress. Just seeing those massive, clawed paws emerge from the heavy combat boots was a memory that would be filed away in Zac's smut-conscious for the rest of eternity. The fur, the definition... it was a lot to walk away from.
However, he also had filed away the memory of Marchosias sounding so genuinely hurt and terrified when he thought Zac had been maimed by Leonardo. He remembered how much it upset the Captain to think that his grand plans for defiling, or razing, or corrupting… or whatever bad things he wanted to do to the Holy City, were in jeopardy.
If the wolf wanted him to get cleaned up so they could go to war, he would get cleaned up. Even if his hormones were raging at a steady Category 5 hurricane level, he didn't have to be a complete degenerate sexual predator. He could be a supportive degenerate sexual predator.
Zac once again found himself being slowly eroded away by the high-pressure infernal shower. The steam quickly billowed out, filling the entire enclosure with a thick, white fog. The concussive force of the water felt kind of like a deep tissue massage, but he did keep turning the temperature dial down, wincing as his still-sensitive skin protested. All those protective outer layers had been ruthlessly stripped away the day before, and the demonic plumbing didn't seem to have a "gentle rainfall" setting.
Through the thick hiss of the steam, Zac heard a second set of pipes groan to life nearby, followed by the sharp, stinging slap of freezing cold water hitting the marble tiles.
"So," Zac called out over the noise, letting the warm water wash the turtle mud from his face. "What's going on that we are late for? You keep talking about a battle, but I haven't seen you guys fight anyone but each other and your own emotions."
There was a pause, followed by a gruff voice that vibrated through the steam. It was accompanied by a sound that Zac was fairly sure was the mighty wolf's teeth chattering just a fraction. "We have been tasked with killing the simulacrum... REPENTANCE."
Zac began scrubbing the stubborn, foul-smelling mud out of his hair, working up a thick lather. "Oh, really?" he called back. "Isn't that, like, kind of dangerous? Shouldn't they send in some big shot like, I don't know, a unicorn who sings and dances, to deal with something of that caliber?"
"It was tasked to me by Belial himself last night," Marchosias said, his voice straining slightly against the frigid cascade. "As a Marquis, it is my job to take care of these sorts of things."
Zac rummaged through the selection of black soaps and brimstone shampoos sitting on the silver shelf built into the wall. "Isn't Belial Lucifer's bottom bitch? Why doesn't he deal with it if he's so strong?"
"Do not call King Belial a bottom bitch!" Marchosias barked, the sudden reprimand echoing sharply in the tiled room.
Zac sighed, wiping suds from his eyes. "I know you are the most pure wolf in Hell, but that is not a bad thing. A bottom bitch means he is the highest ranking and the longest serving."
There was a long, heavy silence from the adjacent shower stall, save for the sound of freezing water hitting fur. Zac could practically hear the Captain's brain trying to recontextualize the vulgar slang into proper military hierarchy.
"Then... yes," Marchosias finally said, his voice hesitant and deeply uncomfortable. "Belial is Lucifer's bottom bitch."
Zac broke into a wide grin, leaning his head back into the spray. "Got it. But is he too busy to deal with the scary robot angel thingy?"
The sound of the icy water abruptly squeaked off. "King Belial's magic is not for fighting directly," Marchosias's voice came through, much clearer now. "He is too important to risk on the battlefield against a weapon that is still an unknown."
Zac began frantically scrubbing the suds from his body, slipping slightly on the marble floor. The wolf was all wet and done with his shower, this was the perfect chance to see Marchosias in all his dripping, full-furry glory.
"So the bottom bitch has weak-ass magic?" Zac called out, trying very hard to sound like he wasn't rushing. "I thought Kings had powerful magic."
A weary sigh echoed from the sinks. "King Belial's magic is very powerful, it is just not for fighting. Not all magic needs to be kinetic."
"Yeah," Zac called back, furiously wiping away the last of the demonic body wash. "Amdusias just has a magical backing track and he's a Duke. But he seemed strong in other ways! That horn of his didn't even get scratched when Nock and Skarg went all WrestleMania on him."
"Duke Amdusias has more than just musical magic," March's voice drifted over, sounding slightly distant. "He can also cause wood to bend. It is quite useful in the right situations. Archers, boats... pencils."
"I guess the unicorn could make someone jab their gums with a toothpick," Zac muttered, wrenching the faucet off. He didn't care about bending wood right now unless it was a euphemism. He power-walked out of the shower enclosure, stepping out of the thick steam and heading straight toward the Captain's voice.
Whap.
A heavy, rough-spun towel hit Zac squarely in the face the exact millisecond he emerged from the fog.