“Good,” said Jacob. “I’ll remember that when I’m eighty, half-blind, drooling and hobbling around with an artificial hip.”
Robert smacked him playfully on the arse.
“Come on,” he said. “There’s a bath over there by the fireplace. Water’s cold by now but at least we can use it to wash up in.”
After giving each other a thorough wash with the soap and washcloth, initially provided for Robert, they dried each other off.
“Should I dress?” asked Jacob.
“I don’t see why. Besides, have you seen what you were wearing? They’re ready for the incinerator, never mind the washing machine.”
Jacob laughed. “You’re probably right. I guess you’d better escort me to dinner please, sir.”
“Sir? I could get used to being called that.”
“Well don’t,” said Jacob, kissing Robert on the cheek before giving him a gentle shove.