"Showers? For one thing, Feathers, it's not bubbles but a manly soak." An old joke. "For another." He reached up to grab Marco's beak and point it up.

"You see how close that damn ceiling is? Maybe you can shower but I'm going to crack my head on it if I'm going to do anything." Just stepping into the slightly elevated tub was putting at him a risk for a concussion.

He let Marco go and fished around for the soap, lathered it in his hands. He let Marco's chirp go for a second, washing the tattoo on his bicep first like he always did whether it needed washing or not.

"What kind of question is that?"