"I really do not want to know how you came to that conclusion," Amarissa responded, watching him almost warily as he retreated from the prospect of wearing only boxers in the tub. He was certain that there was some other reason he had decided not to drop trousers, and common sense and reason probably weren't it.
She waited until he was comfortably submerged in the tub, before following suit. She lid in the opposite end, watching as the water sloshed dangerously near the rim. Her skirt weighed heavily against her legs as it became soaked. The tub definitely hadn't been constructed to hold two people taking a bath, that was for sure. Still, the water felt good over her frame, even if her feet were awkwardly around James. It was relaxing, and she could make out the notes that were still coming from the record player, tinkling in from the bedroom. She sank down only her chin was floating just above water level.
"Yes," Amarissa said thoughtfully, flicking a few bubbles with her fingers so that they popped. "I'll send a report in fact. Took bubble bath with one returned dead James Potter last night. Fond of Sinatra. Loses socks easily."