Beau hissed softly, stepping into the hot water. He slipped into the warmth, the silky smooth feel of the oiled water almost immediately soothing him. For a moment he didn’t acknowledge Llewellyn’s question, letting the overwhelming heat and scent wash over him. He slid further down to get his hair wet, pushing it back out of his face before he finally leaned up again, peering at Llewellyn over the lip of the tub.
“You were telling me about LaRouche’s husband.” He answered levelly.