Constans thought he saw Lee smile at the first glimpse of his conjuring trick, just a little bit. That was the true compliment, the tiny crack in the austere front she presented with her ever-so formal manner of speech. He pulled apart his hands and the flame whirled and vanished, leaving behind a curling tuft of smoke. "Thanks." What he failed to mention was that the first year merely covered the time it took him to yoke the magic, to understand it and make it safe; he'd had nearly a whole year of freedom afterward to explore its potential. There was a lot more he could do with fire now than the tiny flame he'd displayed.
He found himself unimpressed by her latter suggestion; it wasn't hard to see what she was up to, trying to goad him into washing so he'd think it was his own idea. Constans jutted his jaw out stubbornly, wanting to resist for resistance's sake but knowing that he couldn't hold out forever. Although he wouldn't have realized it, he really just didn't want to believe that this place would have to be his home now. To eat meals, to bathe, to wear the clothing of the magi and live by their schedule and their rules... that was to admit that the tower could be a comfortable place, a place of daily routine, of normalcy. The tower, he knew deeply and bitterly, would never be his home. It was a betrayal of Constans' own heart to make these simple concessions.
He was still really itchy, though. Itchy and sore and feeling a little silly in his dirty clothes, now that this very proper lady was sitting in front of him. She had said he'd get them back, right? They'd been nice not so long ago, and anyway they were his favorite color.
"I'm not hurt," he insisted with pride, ignoring his cuts and bruises determinedly. "I don't need any potion. But I suppose I could have a bath."
He drew himself to his feet, chin up, every bit the little nobleman. "Presumably if I send off my clothing to be washed, the staff here will also mend it? I do expect to have it back. Except I haven't brought a change," he admitted, a grudging peace offering to the woman who (he had no doubt) had in fact been sent to convince him to wear robes, no matter her protestations of innocence.
"So I expect I'll have to wear robes. For a little while."