Despite being made from a fabric delicate enough to make the wearer fear they would accidentally shred it, the robe was surprisingly sturdy.
It slid against her skin, cool at first before Kira caught a faint tinge of warmth.
With her body still slightly damp, it clung to her curves.
Like this, Kira opened the door, stepping into her room.
She came to an abrupt stop at the sight of Graydon's big body draped over her couch.
The appreciation in his expression quickly changed to laughter when he caught sight of her hair.
It seemed whenlu-ongsaliva dried it became hard and unyielding. Getting the stuff off her body had taken some work.
She’d given her hair up as a lost cause after three rounds of shampoo hadn’t been enough to wash the saliva away. It was now a stiff, hard helmet around her head.
Worst-case scenario, she could always chop her hair off and let it regrow.
"Laugh it up," Kira warned in a mild voice as she headed toward him.
She'd like to see him keep laughing while she strangled him.
Graydon straightened on the couch and beckoned her toward him. "Come here."
Kira sent him an arch look.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I had a feeling you'd have trouble with thelu-ongsaliva, so I'm here to offer my services."
Kira studied his sincere expression before snorting.
"I know you don't think I'm that dumb," she told him.
The fake sincerity dropped from his face leaving the self-satisfied warrior behind.
"Come, let me help you with your hair while we talk," Graydon ordered.
Kira narrowed her eyes but complied.
Her hair had always been a source of nuisance for her. Privately, she often referred to it as a tentacle monster because of its refusal to be controlled.
That was why she tended to keep it short, cutting it anytime she lost patience with it.
Right now, it was longer than it had been in years because of all the distractions with Luatha and Roake.
That being said, she had no true wish to be bald.
Kira padded toward Graydon, the edge of her robe dragging along the floor behind her and exposing her legs below the knee.
Another woman would have felt self-conscious wearing nothing but thin fabric held together by a tie and a belt.
To Kira, it was no big deal. The robe covered all the important bits.
Her sense of modesty had long since vanished.
When you lived in close quarters with your fellow soldiers, the things that once mattered no longer seemed so important.
Kira only needed to come back from one two-week training exercise to lose any remaining scraps of reticence regarding nudity. When it felt like the skin was going to crawl off your body because of germs and dirt, you made do with what you had. Even if it was a six-person shower with a ten-minute time limit that needed to accommodate thirty women in that short period.
