The room is open, tiled in gently shimmery blue, green, and brown tiles; there's a sink set into a length of counter, with a collection of bottles alongside and a mirror with decorative swirls frosted around the edges behind it, and a drain set into the floor, and the shower apparatus itself done up in golden metal.

Daisy follows him in and turns on the water - it's warm enough to start steaming up the room immediately - and then picks a couple of bottles out of the collection. "This one is soap, and this is shampoo. Don't worry about using up the water, we're not going to run out. Anything else?"

He shakes his head, a tiny bit overwhelmed by the room, and a little mesmerised by the metal of the shower. He quietly thanks Daisy for showing him the shampoo and soap.

And she leaves him to it.

He strips off quickly, folding his clothes neatly, before stepping under the spray. He washes methodically, glad to get the grime off his skin (and if he scrubs harder than he should, leaving the skin a little raw, who's really to know?). He doesn't really take long (although he lingers under the warm water for a little while).

Eventually though, he gets out, dries off and stares, for a little while, at the shirt Daisy gave him before he can actually convince himself it's okay to put it on. And a little while longer to convince himself to leave the bathroom, feeling a little exposed. Eventually though, he heads back into the workroom, carrying the towel and his other clothes.

Daisy is back at work on her list, and looks up when he comes in. "I'll take those," she says, standing to do so. "Ready for bed?"

He's hesitant to hand them over. "I- could?" he offers quietly.

"I can put some music on for you to listen to while you fall asleep, if you want."

"I- meant. The clothes?" he says. Not that it was untrue about him being ready to sleep, but.

"I'll take care of them. It's no trouble."

"I- if- you're sure?"

"Mmhmm. I'll show you how to use our laundry machine next time; go ahead and sleep."

"I- o-okay. Thank you." He creeps over to the bed, and, after a moment, curls up (underneath the blanket again).

She leaves the bundle of clothes on the table while she goes to the back, returning after a minute with a new disc for the datapad: soothing, gentle classical music, a little tinny over its small speaker. Then she takes the bundle and heads out front to find Dusk.

She's out behind the garage, practicing one of her more challenging 'saber forms. It takes her a minute to notice the droid, and another minute to stop so she can approach. Heading out?

    Yeah. Do you want anything while I'm there?

Pick up some more of that blue steel, if there's room in the cart. Probably won't be, though.

    Yeah, probably won't. That's all?

Yup.

    Okay. Could you wash this stuff before you go in?

Yeah. You're getting him more, right? Get a cloak, too.

    Sure. Black, or?

Whatever they have is fine.

    Okay. I'll be back soon.

All right. Love you.

    Love you too. And off she goes.

Nova's clothes are folded neatly on the table by the bed when he wakes up.

He's a little unnerved by the fact that he didn't wake up when the clothes were put there. He is, however, after making sure he's alone, quick to change back into them.

He folds the shirt neatly and puts it where the clothes were.

Then, he's at a little bit of a loss for what to do with himself. (There's normally always something.)

The room is as it has been; not perfectly clean - the table is still pretty strewn with things, in fact, tools and machine parts and scrap - but without anything overtly in need of washing. (Well, probably. Maybe one or two of the layered stains on the table would come up, or at least fade a bit, with enough elbow grease.)

There's also the datapad, now silent, with the story disc he's already listened to in its paper jacket, the one he was in the middle of sitting next to it, and the rest stacked neatly next to those.

He chews on his lip slightly. Then he moves over to the datapad. He's hesitant, but he puts the disc he was in the middle of back in, pressing play, and looking cautiously at the door into the back rooms.

The datapad starts reading the story to him. Pradnakt entirely fails to appear.

He breathes out a sigh of relief, and goes in search of supplies to try cleaning the table.

The cabinet under the sink reveals a large bottle of vinegar, a slightly smaller one of bleach, a few rags, a small bucket, and a scrub brush suitable for cleaning hard surfaces with.

He grabs the vinegar first - he'll try bleach if this fails. He dilutes some in the bucket, grabs the scrub brush, and one of the rags for wiping down, and sets to scrubbing at the table (moving things neatly to the side neatly organised and still easy to find what was there).

The stains are pretty stubborn. Some of them come up, slowly; others don't at all.

He makes a dissatisfied sound. But...at least some of them have improved. He wipes over the surface with a rag to try and clear the vinegar residue, rinses out the bucket, and tries again with bleach.

That works a little better.

"You really shouldn't be doing that without gloves." How long has she been standing in the doorway? Wow she's quiet when she wants to be.