"Non, t'ink I can do 'dis no probl'm." He assured her with a flashed grin and a wink. "Can show you how t' use i' 'dough. C'mere." He jerked his head to the side in a graceful arch, shifting so she could see better, as he lifted the rippled metal. "Gonna pu' uh frame on 'dis so y' go' somet'in' t' hol' onto-- an' den y' pu' i' in 'de wa'er." Which he did, submerging half of it in the bucket of good-smelling flowers. "An' y' take y' clot'es.." He picked up the small towel he had. "An' y' dunk." Which he did, gloves and all. "An' scrub." He lifted the towel, scrubbed it on the washing board, "Dunk," Which he repeated, "An' scrub." Once again, repeated. "Y' do 'dat ten or fif'een times, an' you go' somet'in' kin'a clean. Bu' you gotta boil 'de clot'es too, t' kill anyt'in' livin' on 'dem." He nodded towards the boiling pot of water, and the shirt and pair of jeans he had soaking in there-- also notice? Two pairs of boxer briefs, and a few pairs of socks.
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vas_captio_rpg,