[cinnamon, because it will likely be all he can think about for the coming days. that and the phantom sensation of counselor laughlin's hair on his fingertips. never has hawk felt the need to manufacture such closeness - to remind his senses of someone because he craves it as much as the men that he knows have developed an affliction of sex or wine or even opium from dark dens that turn their bodies inside out and leave them shells of their former selves. it seems a good thing then that this man is to be, essentially, at his beck and call - though he'd never dream of abusing it and earning his ire when already it seems he has his respect.

he hopes tim is looking before the moments he sinks in to the water - wondering if anything in his body attracts him as just the small peek of muscle has done to him, giving life to a warmth flickering along his skin and otherwise unaffected by what should be the chill of the air around him suddenly. does he like what he sees of the warrior he admires for stopping this nonsensical slaughter of men from both their kingdoms? if it were a different time, if they'd met as strangers in a bar or a brothel - would they both be soaking in this bath together, passing idle chatter until hawk could -

christ. perhaps he's woozier than he thought, or his imagination has gotten him carried away for a change. normally he's much more practical than this.

but the wound itself is something he's entirely forgotten in the excitement of the day, too focused instead on the transport to the castle and being presented before the king, being accepted ceremoniously and hastily into their ranks. all the battle before is a blur that will haunt him when his eyes slip shut later - in the privacy of his own suite and without anyone to alarm for the brutality he's seen firsthand and pushed down to involuntarily process later in painstaking detail. he vaguely remembers someone piercing him from behind, reopening an old wound from the battle he'd lost kenny in - making him hiss more in frustration than actual pain before meeting their end at the slice of his sword. hawk's face pulls into confusion then, chin tipping to try and glance over his shoulder with little luck for where the wound is on his body. one small blessing was not having to look at it and be reminded, even he'd bear the other scars harder in his mind.]

Ah, don't trouble yourself - it's old, and it will heal over again. There's no helping the appearance of it either.

[he'd been reluctant back then even to have a doctor see to it, even if he'd been woozy with disorientation and sweating feverishly. there had been question if he'd even make it the day it happened, for so large was the blow he'd sustained, but here is.

still, he can hardly complain when it means tim returns to him and lets his robe fall to the floor, revealing in a breathtaking moment the full scope of those powerful legs that he has a perfect angle to drink in before they wrap around him. hawk tries to twist around and take in full view of this surprisingly unexpected pleasure. the body behind him is firm, warm and inviting in a way that makes him want to lean back and lounge against him rather than the bath's edge.]

No apologies necessary. You are offering me a kindness far below your station, Counselor Laughlin. But I'm grateful all the same, not least of all to get a closer acquaintance with you.

Literally and figuratively.

[there is a pleased note to his voice, seeping in from the wry twist of his lips at his wittiness. if it stings, he doesn't let it on, gritting his teeth and baring it. most of the sensation has been lost under the twisted knotting of the old scars - it's the edge that connects to his skin that feels sensation the most and almost makes him shiver from the gentle press of tim's hands and the cloth he strips away grime and dried blood with.]

Thank you. Though, I would have enjoyed your company all the same in such proximity.

So - tell me what I should expect of this feast tomorrow night. Will you be in attendance?