He brushes his hair out of his eyes, the soap suds falling along his shoulder and upper arm. He hears her loud and clear, even if the door muffles her words just a little bit, and he frowns.

Back home, no one would dare disturb him. His baths ranged an hour or two, and no less than that. Damn girl, he thinks, just a tad bit annoyed at her. His baths were ritual and short of sacred. You'd think the girl would sympathize given that most women were given to the same habit.

Opting to say nothing, Howl continues on his way, cupping a handful of water in both palms and splashing it on his face to clear any possible soap from his skin.