[The sudden shift in altitude is unexpected--Nick's getting used to having arms like iron bars around him, though. He doesn't start as badly as Blondie when Firefly plucks them up off the couch, but the slide of that glowing length out of him makes it impossible to think for a moment. His everything is a sensitive mess and the fact that he can feel a thick drop of fluid creeping down the back of his thigh has his flush returning in spades. Before long, he matches Blondie.

It's ridiculous, of course, getting embarassed now--after all that--but Nick's always been a little straight-laced.

Firefly carries them easily, flexing his comparatively absurd strength, and meanders the short distance to the restroom. The program is a perfect mirror of their apartment, down to the honey in the fridge, so it's no shock that the bathroom is dead accurate. Nick, however, seems a little surprised to be in here at all--then it dawns on him: he can take a (virtual) bath without worry. The novelty there is enormous and he huffs an amused sound, twisting just so to bump his nose against the side of Firefly's jaw.]

Didn't figure we'd end up here, but I can't say I'm opposed. [His voice still sounds debauched, but he's recovering. He spares a glance at the room and the inset tub and shifts, arm squeezing around Blondie as he does. Nick's pretty sure he's not going to be elegant, but he can maneuver his way into a tub.]

You wanna set me down a second so I can kick on the tap?