Setting: Red Bedroom
Time: Day 13, late morning
Summary: Hidan finally gets cleaned up, and unwittingly takes over Marta's bedroom. Just because it was a mistake, though, doesn't mean he feels like moving now that he's gotten comfortable.
Warnings: Tsundereing? Douchebaggery? Oh, and fail OP. Hidan is a vain bastard, too.
After Jashin-sama only knew how long, Hidan had found not only a bathroom, but the time and freedom to use it properly. Not just a quick piss-stop while flailing his scythe to keep those fucking dolls away, not just finding some dark nook around a corner to crouch in, but actually using it. He could use the toilet without being attacked, and he could damn well stay in the shower as long as he fucking wanted, with no risk of losing his hide to some skinless freak or any other monsters--and the shower pumped real Jashin-sama-damned water, not blood. How long had it been, a month? Maybe a little more. Over a whole fucking month of being denied no-strings-attached access to a bathroom--or the rest of the house, for that matter. The ritual room--and he knew it was a ritual room, because Jashinism had enough rituals that he could damn well tell that was what it was intended for--had been nice, but he seriously hated those tunnels.
Hidan had thus taken advantage of that fact, and had lost no time in seeking out some fresh clothing, and even some supplies from the Princess Closet, before shutting himself into the Silver Bathroom. There, he had spent nearly two hours in the shower, meticulously scrubbing every hint of grime from his body and hair--and for that matter, his weapons as well, and his accessories. His old clothes had been worse than trash, but his pouches and belt with their equipment had survived, as had his hitai-ate, ring, and extra rosary--and that was most important. By the time he emerged from the shower, he felt quite a bit better--not to mention looked immeasurably better as well. (Not that the fruit and floral scents from the products he'd used hurt that fact at all, either.) He had found nothing suitable to slick his hair back with, and so simply combed it out instead, letting it hang loose and damp around his face as he pulled on what little clothing he had decided on--sandals, boxers, and a pair of snugly fitting, low-rise jeans he had found in the Shelter Room.
All that done, he had little left to do but lounge on the bed in he Red Bedroom, applying fresh coats of dark green nail polish and waiting for them to dry. After all the time he had spent deprived, both in this ridiculous house and in that damned hole in the ground, he was pretty sure that he had earned some major pampering time. After all, who deserved it more than him? Maybe he'd take a nap once this stuff had dried up the way it needed to.... Or maybe he would go eat, then sleep. If this place really did take longer than a day to get through a whole day, the way Marta had mentioned, (yesterday had apparently been an exception, for whatever reason) then he had more than enough time to do both, and sleep as long as he wanted.
In short: fuck yeah, things were finally starting to look up in this place.