Hubert stood, fists and teeth clenched so tightly it was causing his head to hurt and his nails to bite into his palms. Sweat clung to his brow. One might wonder, what could possibly make the leuieteneant (aced it) so nervous? He had fought battles, both physical and mental, over the land of Strahta for some time now; he was well known for his level headed personality, and yet here he was, trembling with fear.

It was bath time.

More specifically it was -her- bath time.

Every single time he had thought he had figured it out, that infuriating woman came up with another excuse to add to her novel long list of excuses towards what was so bad about bath time. "The water is too cold!" was the first logical reason he had dragged out of her, one he assured her was never a problem in Strahta (a subtle hint at her moving there that she had rather blatantly missed when she countered that by reminding him she doesn't live in Strahta). "They take too long!" she said another time, and he showed her that his house had a shower which cut bathing time down an excessive amount. He even offered her to give it a try, and she begrudgingly agreed, curious how the contraption worked more than any actual solid wish to see how much time it saved.

Only Pascal could spent an hour in a shower. She had whined loudly about how much time she lost to that and that that was the last time she ever have a shower! His father had thrown the hydro bill in his face that month; he paid it off, frown carved so deeply in his face that it was anyone's guess how long it would take to chisel it back into a smile.

"It's boring!" He gave her one of his limited edition Sunscreen Ranger (woah I almost forgot that name) bath toys. She grew bored of it in ten seconds when he yelled at her for shooting him in the eye. "Baths are uncomfortable!" He told her that his father had installed a huge bath tub with cushions and jets and all manner of comfortable things, again she argued she didn't live in Strahta, again she missed his ulterior motive. "My butt gets sore!" "My hair gets all frizzy!" ("It's always frizzy!!")

And it was now time for round something in what seemed like an endless sea of rounds. He had invited her over, claiming he needed her help with some tricky bit of Amarcian engineering that he found in his bathroom (how she had fallen for that, he didn't know. Truth be told, she had fallen for nothing, she just enjoyed Hubert's game of trying to get her to take a bath. "I really have nothing against them. Well, not that much." she had told Cheria one day with a wink wink and a nudge. Heaven forbid Hubert find that out however.) The bath was filled and she was standing over it, tinkering with the faucet, not one piece of Pascal touching the glistening pure water below. (she played a good game, she would giggle to herself)

And now we are back at the beginning, background story told. Hubert, nervous about his own plans suddenly. Regretting his decision, but knowing well that turning back would leave him ill in her favour. "This isn't an Amarcian faucet, Hubert; it's just all regular and stuff," she would be sure to scold him, so he couldn't turn back. He swallowed his breath and with it his pride and reached forward to the exposed armpit of his less-than-a-well-hidden-sort-of-secret secret crush, fingers wriggling.

He hadn't been prepared for what happened next.

In his mind, she wound fall, laughing at his well executed tickle assult, backwards into the tub.

Instead, she ignored it completely, continuing to fiddle with the faucet. "Hu~~," she said. "I'm not ticklish." He froze.

A very bad miscalculation.

'I should have figured that out first' his mind roared at him. Scolding himself so harshly, he made yet another miscalculation: he took his eyes off of Pascal. In sconds, she was no longer tinkering the faucet.

As it turned out, one Hubert Oswell was very -very- ticklish. He laughed, a strange sound for anyone to hear - unsure and faulty, out of practice - and then he slipped, falling in what felt like slow motion towards the water below.

Now, Hubert is well known for many things. One of them is being a jerk, the other is being smart. It's hard to say which of these things prompted his brain to intuitively flash with brilliance to grab the arm of the girl who was still straddling the side of the tub precariously and pull her down with him.

Water splashed high into the air and fell back down on them both, soaking them from head to toe. It was now that Pascal laughed, the entire situation having gone from awkward to crazy awkward in a mere flash. (why are you lying?) She pressed her head into his shoulder, laughing brightly.

He himself was--stunned isn't quite the right word, more like flabbergasted. But the sound of Pascal jauntily laughing in his ear quickly brought him down to reality and he couldn't help but laugh as well, losing himself and wrapping both arms around the girl in one really wet hug. Neither seemed ready to move, as they continued to laugh and be equally unsure of what to do next.

Hubert stopped laughing first. "Baths really -would- be more entertaining if--"

"You're not going to offer me another silly toy are you? Because those were great for a little while, but then they were reeeaaaally boring!"

"They are not! And...no...that wasn't."

"Unless it was, I dunno..." She paused and he saw an expression he never knew existed in Pascal's muscles. Nervous? Doubt? Anxious?

"Was what?" Hubert coaxed, suddenly fantastically curious what it was that could freeze Pascal mid sentence.

"..." She looked away and muttered, "I dunno... like, maybe... you?"