Tarn startles as Spinister begins scrubbing at his aft. His hand snaps behind him, locking the hell’s wrist in his firm grip and instantly stilling him from his ministrations.

“I’m fully capable of doing that myself—!“ His exasperation is palpable as he tries to scoot away slightly. “You’ve been plenty helpful, I’m sure that I can finish up here on my own.”

Don’t think you’re getting away so easy either, Spinister. Tarn fully intends on repaying the favor. After all, you’ve just walked through a dust storm, and mutual grooming and detailing are the building blocks of trust in any partnership.