Amber dragged Judge through the hall of their mansion all the way to the ground floor with the determination of a woman on a mission. Judge, on the other hand, was very much on a mission to stay still and contemplate his life choices.
"Where are we going?" Judge groaned. He was in no mood to put up a resistance. But he really needed a nice little bath now — he had been rolling around and getting bruised all over, he just hoped nothing had happened to his face. His face was important. His face was an asset.
"Out," Amber said so casually, as if that was all the explanation necessary.
"Out?" Judge repeated, his noble instincts tingling with unease. "What? ... I mean, don't we... like, need permission and things? And I really need a bath."
"Bath is easy," Amber waved her hands, and suddenly, all the sweat and dirt vanished as if it had never existed. The bruises, however, remained, bleeding out whatever dignity he had left.
