[ There's entirely too much soap, nearly all of it scented and worth more money than Carver's seen in a long time. The sort of luxury that would have been unthinkable once, before he started moving up in the world, and that was suddenly ripped away along with everything else after the fall. He distrusts it in the aftermath, sensing a trap. A means to lure him into a false sense of security - dangerous, even if it's not a trick that Gold's playing on him so much as this place.

He showers, in the meantime. Even uses conditioner on his hair, picking the least offensive-smelling one and just going for it.

It's nice, he thinks absently. The heat of the water, the way it scrubs the grime away. The way he feels in the aftermath. And how the exhaustion starts hitting him now that the adrenaline and endorphins aren't rushing through him anymore. He doesn't sleep much these days. Can't manage more than a few hours in a single go.

There's a cost, eventually. But he comes out in due time, won't use all of Gold's hot water, and leans against the wall. Watching for a moment, his hair loose and damp, as Gold finishes cleaning up in the kitchen. ]

You wanna do this again, let me know. I don't like cooking in the Down. The food's shit and nobody will sell anything to me.