Eighteen -
Final Fantasy Tactics, Mustadio
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For everyone else, well, there was the pump-room in the back yard, right off the kitchen door, and what it lacked in ambiance and hot water (and roof) it made up for in, well, being free. As far as Mustadio was concerned, you couldn't beat free. A little hard work over the pump handle and he had a trough full of clean water to wash in, and the two walls around the pump actually gave him a modicum of privacy, and, well, so the pump-room didn't actually have a roof, but that was all to the good. If it was sunny it would heat the water a little for him; if it was raining it would be like an extra warm shower; and if it was cold outside, he'd just bring a bucket of water up to the common room and clean up there. No problem. Everything was fine.

Stripping off to the waist he crouched in front of the water trough and splashed water on his chest and shoulders, then leaned forward and plunged his head into the water. Bracing, he thought, overcoming his initial urge to call it 'GAH fucking COLD!'. He threw his head back, plastering wet hair to his scalp and down the back of his neck--wet, it went from the color of wheat to the color of raw honey--and lashing a long stripe of water down the wall behind him.

A quick glance out the doorway to make sure he wasn't being stared at and he wriggled his overalls down to ride perilously low on his hips. Oh, this was going to be cold--dipping both hands into the trough he brought out a double handful of water. He waited optimistically for a moment in the vain hope that the water would take on some of the warmth of his hands. Instead, his hands chilled to the bone. Squeezing his eyes shut and biting at the corner of his lower lip Mustadio thrust both hands and their cargo into his pants.

He was proud of himself: he only yowled a little before the worst was over and then he was able to get on with the business of scrubbing himself clean. Intent on finishing up before he froze to death or, worse, his pants fell off, he didn't really hear the window above the pump room open, until one of his little grumbled curses drew a stifled laugh from somewhere above his head.

"Wouldn't it be easier just to take those off?" Ramza asked, leaning his crossed arms on the windowsill and smiling down at him. "They're going to be all wet now."

Mustadio leaned back against the pump room wall and squinted up at his boss. "Well, sure, but then I have to worry about one of the kitchen maids coming out that door--" Mustadio pointed. His pants nearly fell off from the motion, clearing his hips to hang useless about his thighs, and he had to grab for them again. "--and having a screaming fit, right? Once I'm clean I'll change into those--" he pointed at his spare overalls, folded up on a barrel "--and wash these--" he grabbed for his falling pants again "--and ta da, everything's peachy."

Ramza laughed sheepishly and ducked his head. Mustadio couldn't help but grin back, leaning back against the wall made warm from the afternoon sun and letting the water dry on his skin. "Engineers," Ramza told the world, his mouth in a wry twist. "Come up to my room when you're done? I need to talk to you about... a thing or two."

"Sure thing, boss," Mustadio said, lifting one hand to salute, and that made his pants fall off for good, puddling wet and useless about his ankles. Ramza nearly choked on a laugh before he retreated, leaving the window open.