Page 27 of Gunslinger Girl
Max shrugged. “There’s always an exception or two to every rule, right? Bathroom is through that door. Get some rest. I’ll check on you in the morning.”
“Max?”
He paused in the doorway, his gray eyes wide as he waited for her to speak again.
Ask. All you have to do is ask.
“Thank you,” she said at last. “For everything.”
“You’re welcome. Good night.”
“Good night.”
The door clicked shut. Pity stood in the center of the room, alone. She remained that way for a long minute, staring down at the apple-green carpet, unsure of what to do next. Finally, she took off her belt and laid it on the table next to the bed. She might have her guns back, but how far would she make it in the state she was in? Bruised body, battered emotions, exhausted to her very bones.
A few days couldn’t hurt, could it? She could rest, get her strength back. And then, if she still wanted to leave…
Impress Halcyon. Selene’s words thrummed in her ears. Impress me.
Too tired to think, Pity went over and examined the wardrobe. It was empty save for a thick white bathrobe, soft as a spring lamb. She gathered it and went to the door Max had indicated was the bathroom. When she saw the bathtub, the robe dropped to the floor.
Moments later, her clothes followed.
There was a knock on the door as she was drying off.
“You decent in there?” a woman’s voice called.
Pity froze, bent over, her hair trailing above the bathroom tile.
“I’ve got the code,” she continued. “But I was trying to be polite.”
Pity tightened her robe. She went to the door and cracked it. “Uh, can I help you?”
It was the dark-haired young woman who had blown Max the kiss. She gave Pity a pert smile, her tan cheeks shimmering with a faint gold sheen. She pushed the door in. “I’m here to help you, honey. Flossie sent me. I’m Luster. And you’re Pity, so Max tells me.”
A man entered behind her, dressed in a scarlet-and-black uniform trimmed with gold buttons. He carried an armful of long black bags on hangers. “In the wardrobe, please,” Luster instructed. “Then take off.” When they were alone, she gave Pity a long look over, from top to bottom. “Well, the first thing we need to do is get you clean.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. In the bath.” Luster kicked off her heeled shoes and strode into the bathroom.
Pity heard the water turn on again. “I spent the last half hour in there.”
The bathroom was as luxurious as the bedroom, with pale blue marble and a deep, round tub fed by a golden faucet shaped like a fish. Luster leaned over it, testing the temperature of the water. Up close, she didn’t look as young as she had downstairs; Pity gauged her to be at least a few years older than she was, despite her diminutive figure.
“Flossie told me to make you presentable, not dunk you underwater a few times and call it a night. Robe off, back in the tub!” When Pity failed to comply, she put her hands on her hips. “What?”
“Nothing, it’s only…”
“Don’t tell me you’re shy.” Luster laughed. She plucked a pair of pins from inside her bodice and gathered her hair. In a practiced instant it was twisted up and pinned in place. “Honey, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen a thousand times, in a thousand ways. C’mon, lose it.”
Pity slid out of the robe, shivering even as the room filled with steam. You swam naked in the creek with Finn a hundred and one times. This is no different. Or so she told herself.
Luster whistled. “Those are some pretty fine bruises. You’re more plum than peach right now. Unfortunately, I’ve seen that before, too.”
As Pity slid into the water—and she had to admit, a second bath was not the worst thing she could imagine—Luster opened a cabinet under the sink, filled with soaps and oils. A wealth of smells drifted over.
“Peppermint? Wisteria? I’m partial to lavender, myself.”
