[Ahh, the smell of strawberry. She sniffs at the air and enjoys her smell on him. As tempting as it is to touch him to rub more of those suds all over his body, she has to focus on her own face and then washing her hair.]

I mean, it's a resort. It should have a bar and a pool. We should really play up the starving, sad angle. I bet they'd give us all kinds of free stuff if I cried and you couldn't console me.

[She makes a show of wibbling her lower lip and looking like she's about to cry, which actually is very different from her genuinely sad face which is far more depressing to look at. But suds from shampoo fall down into her face, and she curses beneath her breath as her eyes burn. Her feet stomp a little as she bounces in place and wipes at her eyes. What do they put in that stuff, arsenic?]