Sebastian Pucey had gotten an unfortunate something-or-other on his hands. He'd run to the loo to wash them with scalding water and hope he didn't need to make a visit to any of his colleagues for growth or discoloration or who-knows-what-else. It had truly been a Monday.
The restroom closest to the potions lab in the employee wing of the hospital was out of towels. Of course.
He cursed under his breath so no potential wandering patients would hear him, and headed to the Staff Room for something to dry his hands and maybe something blunt to hit himself in the head with.
Stepping in still grumbling he saw the back of a familiar blond head sitting across the way. "Hey Tommy," he said, with the unmistakable edge of anger in his voice. Not at Thomas, of course, but it never really mattered to Bash what he was angry at.