7

Minho let himself into their empty room at the inn and set the bundle of new purchases onto the bed. Taemin was next door (at least, that's where he was supposed to be) which was exactly what Minho hoped for. He untied the bundle with a pluck at the twine holding it closed, revealing its contents. First, he plucked out the revolver and ammo. These went into one of the saddle bags. Taemin was too much of a mystery to trust with a gun right now, and Minho wouldn't be surprised to find that barrel pointed in his own direction. The bag and its contents were then squirreled away underneath the bed, up into the frame itself. Minho wasn't planning on sleeping there anyway, so the uncomfortable lump it created wasn't an issue. Taemin would have plenty of space on the other side.

He draped the wool-lined leather duster purchased for Taemin over the back of a chair, then unfolded the new clothing and laid it out carefully on the bed. After a moment's inspection, he frowned and refolded them meticulously, then placed them back in the bundle. He tied this up again, picked it up, and left the room. He locked the door behind him. Taemin was behind another door just a few steps away.

Minho raised his hand to knock, but his knuckles stopped short an centimeter from the door. On the other side, Minho could make out a muffled female voice. Taemin, too, could be heard, though his words were equally indistinguishable. Minho's arm fell to his side, his fingers balled into first. Taemin was welcome to whet his ual appetite whenever he needed, but not while Minho was footing the bill. 

Minho was stuck, wavering between going downstairs and slamming down a drink, or bursting into the bath room and cursing Taemin out. He stood in the hallway for a moment, undecided, until the way forward revealed itself.

The door to the room slammed open against the wall and a heavily perfumed woman exited in a huff, holding one of her arms close to her body. She was in a full state of dress and looked irate, and as she passed Minho she muttered under her breath, "Qu'est-ce qu'il est con!" He wasn't confident what that meant, but he'd heard Honoré swear enough in French over the years that he knew it wasn't positive. 

With a sigh, Minho pushed through the semi-open door and closed it behind him, leaving him in the room with a very disgruntled Taemin. He had sunk down in the bath until his chin touched the water, and his pale and bruised knees stuck out above the surface. He acknowledged Minho with a glance, but said nothing. At the very least, Minho's presence didn't seem to be a source of additional bother.

"You're probably wondering what that was all about," said Taemin.

Minho found a small footstool in the corner and made a seat out of it, holding the clothing bundle in his lap. "Not really," he responded, looking everywhere but the direction of the bathing Taemin.

"It wasn't my fault."

"Sure."

"Seriously!" Taemin countered. The water sloshed around him and briefly threatened to overflow. Gripping the sides of the tub, he turned to face Minho with a scowl. "She burst in here with a ing sponge and tried to molest me or something. I didn't even get a goddamn hello before she went straight for my junk, and she wouldn't listen when I told her to stop. I know I don't speak whatever she does, so I had to use my body language, alright? She wasn't comprehending that I wasn't interested, so I had to make her understand." 

Minho cocked his eyebrow at Taemin, waiting for him to continue. Taemin dropped his gaze, and turned away once more to sink into the tub.

"I might've, uh, bit her a little bit," he confessed quietly. "Not enough for her to bleed! Just enough for her to get the message."

Minho took in a big breath, knowing he'd get for this from the owner when they tried to leave in the morning. He reclined back against the wall and let out a sigh as he rubbed his palm over his face to smear away his expression. "You try shaking your head?" he said. "That's pretty ing universally understood."

Taemin was still and silent for a moment, then murmured, "I did not think of that." 

"Jesus Christ, Taemin!" Minho began, but Taemin didn't hear him. There was a rumble of bubbles as he dunked his head underneath the surface of the water, shielding his ears from Minho's incoming scolding. It wasn't worth arguing with someone who couldn't and wouldn't listen. Minho let out a wordless grumble and rose from the stool, setting the bundle of clothes on the seat behind him. Then, he made his way to the door and waited for the sound of Taemin reemerging before he exited. If he didn't have the common sense to shake his head no to that poor woman, he certainly wouldn't be bright enough to assume that this new wardrobe was for him.

Taemin came up after a minute, gasping for air. "Are you leaving?" he said breathily, spitting out water. "Can't you stay?"

Minho kept his back turned away and put his hand on the doorknob. "I'd rather not. Watching men bathe isn't exactly a hobby of mine. I just came in to bring you fresh clothes; they're on the stool over there. I had to guess your size, but I think I did alright. Uh, that's it then."

"They're for me?" Taemin said in amazement with another slosh of water. Minho glanced behind him to see Taemin leaning o