A loud splash came from the bathroom about 15 seconds after he left. He would be able to find a brush, though.
Poppy sat in the middle of the bathroom, in the same place she had been when he left, but this time she was soaking wet. Large puddles had mysteriously appeared on the floor. Her clothing clung to her, heavy with water, and her hair dripped onto the floor. Droplets raced along her skin, and goosebumps ran up her lightly freckled arms. She looked up at him when he entered. "Hello, you!"
He stared at her with wide eyes, setting the brush down slowly. After a moment, he picked up the towel and began trying to dry her a bit. "You didn't listen."
"No, I didn't," she agreed. She leaned into his touch instinctually, her eyes thoughtful, if not a little cloudy. "It was cold."
He sighed, kissing her cheek. "Well, let's get you dry and you can put on nice dry clothes and it'll be all good."
Poppy's hair was really quite curly, and difficult to brush through. She smelt of rose water and lavender, her shampoo, and she turned her head to look at him. "Hey," she said eventually. "Can I tell you a secret?"
"I have a huge crush on you," she whispered in his ear. "Like, huge. I feel all warm when I look at you, and it feels like my heart is swelling." She paused and frowned. "But don't tell anyone."
"We're getting married," she repeated, leaning back into his hands. She paused and then looked up at him with alarm. "Right now?"
She looked up at him with one raised eyebrow. "Francis," she said, almost scolding him. "I'm wet. I can't get married."
She shivered slightly but began to walk towards the bedroom. "Are you staying here all night?" she asked eagerly. "Are we having a sleepover?"
