[He's in so good a mood he does it without complaint, no more than a chuckle and a shake of his head. Not that he cares to refuse her ever, anyway. So he puts off that inviting shower for a few more seconds, and goes to get her things, all pink and berry-scented as they are, then hops in the shower with her.]

Have your pick of what you want. I just gotta scrub all this off.

[Starting by grabbing a washcloth. Streaks of black and gray and red will probably mark up its white fabric forever now.]

Ugh. Makeup is worse than mud for gettin' it off though.