From: (Anonymous)
Runner comes back, Siri, Watch, and Photo in tow. Siri has a real bar of soap clutched in one hand, as does Photo. Photo also has one of her blankets draped over her arm.

Runner waves to Drummer, and Drummer stands, stretches, and saunters over toward her.

Dredge and Birdy exit the shower building first, Dredge with her mohawk still dripping, plastered soggily to one side of her head, Birdy with her hair loose and scraggling down her back. Dredge is in just her jacket and her jeans, t-shirt slung over her shoulder, dripping, her socks over the other, also wet, her boots hanging by their laces, tied through one of her belt loops. Birdy is in her undershirt, her borrowed button-up soggy and tied around her waist.

“Good chance to do laundry,” Dredge calls, waves.

“Put your shirt on,” Siri calls back.

“It’s white, Doc, you can see my tits just as well if I’ve got it on,” Dredge replies, tips her head, grins. Birdy snorts, hides her smile behind one hand.

Twist leaves next, her shirt and pants on, but soaked, and her jacket, socks, and shoes all off, also soaked. Burn putters out in a shirt and her undershorts, Tooth follows in just her jeans.

“Showers are all yours,” Tooth calls, slings her dripping clothes over the clothesline running between two houses. “Think Burn used up all the hot water though.”

“It was definitely Dredge,” Burn replies, points to Dredge, who’s settled on a bench in front of the general store.

“No it wasn’t,” Dredge calls back. “It’s Twist.”

“It was you,” Twist replies, tips herself forward to shake her hair out and unstick her shirt from her front. “I think you ran yours on straight hot water for fifteen minutes.”

“Did not,” Dredge replies, sets her hands on her hips, tilts her chin down and scowls. “It was ten, maybe.”

“Fifteen,” Birdy disagrees, settles next to her.

“Fine, maybe it was fifteen,” Dredge grumbles, tosses her shirt and socks over the back of the bench with a wet slap. “Ain’t my fault they ain’t got enough hot water.”

Lucinda rolls her eyes, hauls herself up off the bench, starts toward the shower building.

Drummer, Runner, and the three from back at camp follow after.

Drummer and Runner duck into the same brick stall, Drummer drags the curtain closed and Runner say something low and soft, laughs. Photo picks a stall across and one down from them, pulls her own curtain closed, starts humming as she tosses her clothes over the wall and turns on the water. Watch takes the stall across from Runner and Drummer, doesn't bother to close the curtain before stripping, dropping her clothes in a heap at her feet, and turning the water on full blast.

Siri takes the stall at the far end, carefully pulls her curtain closed. There's the thunk of the bar of soap on a metal shelf, then a trickle of water, then a blast, and a sharp inhale.

Lucinda enters last, her bird hopping behind, then flapping up onto one of the stall walls. The only open stalls are--across from Siri and next to Photo, or next to Siri and across from Photo.

She chooses next to Siri, with Drummer and Runner laughing, yelling, shoving each other under the cold water, on her other side.

Lucinda tosses her coat over the rusty folding chair by the door, leaves her boots next to the chair. She peels off her socks and shirt, starts undoing her belt as she pulls the curtain closed in her stall, sheds her shirt, her pants, her bra, her underwear, cranks the water high and shivers as the first blast of cold hits her skin. Her raven hops down off the wall, rolls through the puddle around the floor drain.

“Fun, huh?” Lucinda asks, shuffles her feet around her bird so her bird snaps at her toes, rolls back to her feet and shakes water off her wings. “What, my feet not good enough for you?” Lucinda laughs. “You ungrateful little mooch, I offer you toys and you don't use them.”

“Please don't use your own body parts as toys for your bird,” Siri says. “I've seen her beak, and I've seen what other ravens do to bodies, and I would appreciate it if you kept all of your toes.”

Lucinda is just about to answer when Runner yelps and someone crashes to the floor.

“Fuck you,” Runner groans, and Drummer laughs.
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