[His eyes are half-open now. Hair fanned out around him, just as he left it. Obi-Wan's distorted form, an earthy mixture of beige and brown, watches over the tub. The man remained for the whole ordeal, like he said he would. Still remains, fully intending to see it through.
Time passes. He isn't sure how long — maybe minutes, maybe an hour. But he at least allows himself to sit in his warm refuge for awhile. To sit with his feelings. And to simply...be.
At some point, however, Vyng wordlessly reaches for the plug and pulls it free. A low gurgling bubbles up from the drain, as water flows downward. At the same time, his muscles ache in protest as he pushes himself into a proper sitting position. When his head and shoulders finally emerge, he doesn't bother pushing the drenched hair out of his face.
In fact, he doesn't do much of anything. Except stare through stringy and wet clumps of gray hair, at the mirror hanging above the sink.]
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Time passes. He isn't sure how long — maybe minutes, maybe an hour. But he at least allows himself to sit in his warm refuge for awhile. To sit with his feelings. And to simply...be.
At some point, however, Vyng wordlessly reaches for the plug and pulls it free. A low gurgling bubbles up from the drain, as water flows downward. At the same time, his muscles ache in protest as he pushes himself into a proper sitting position. When his head and shoulders finally emerge, he doesn't bother pushing the drenched hair out of his face.
In fact, he doesn't do much of anything. Except stare through stringy and wet clumps of gray hair, at the mirror hanging above the sink.]