Xaviers!

"Matthew 7:12, Miriam," Will said, literally quoting chapter and verse as he picked up the candle. "I may be the champion of a pagan god, but I've also still Anglican and can remember my Sunday school lessons quite well. 'All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you; do ye even so to them.' That's old-timey English for 'don't threat me with a good time.'"

He carried Miriam around as he briefly looked through her drawers, searching for something. Miriam would get the sense that Will was stalling a little bit as well, mind you -- he was still somewhat playing the fool here, putting on a goofy act to try to cheer the both of them up somewhat. It was fascinating really; even his gait as he walked around the room changed a little bit as he tried to play up a somewhat unfamiliar role. Normally, this would be accompanied by a physical shift as well, but it turns out Will's acting chops were more than just a product of his physical malleability; his posture control and mannerisms were a product of years of training in and of themselves, and he was putting on a bit of a show for Miriam's benefit.

The fact that his measured walk and movements reminded Miriam of the walls and persona she herself would sometimes put up may not be entirely coincidental, as Will strode around her room like he owned the place.

"We must have different pastors then," Will smirked. "Plus, a little dash of pagan energy never hurt anyone, or shall we go ask the Morrigan about this? I suppose I could just do a quick prayer; got a convenient candle right here. 'Hey, Sam, it's ya boy Will. A strange opportunity has presented itself to me recently, and I was wondering how far I should take it..." he teased.

"What, for talking to Sam?" Will said, mock-innocently.

"Yes, much less anything else you're insinuating. You talk the talk and you might even walk the walk, but I know a bluff when I see one." If a candle could smirk, this one most certainly would right now.

"Well, any blufftitude that you are sensing there, Miriam, is just out my polite and innate needs to be a good guest while I'm in your room.

And speaking of which," Will said, finally opening the closet that contained what he had been looking for. "I've been at a rock concert all day long, and in a fight after that. You have so kindly invited me to use your bed to rest, but I can't, in all good conscience, do so without taking a nice hot shower first," he finished, pulling out Miriam's bucket of shower essentials. "Let's see here...soap, shampoo, towel, bathrobe, very nice," Will nodded.

"Now, I could just leave you here while I got all cleanlinated, but leaving a lit candle in an empty room is a fire hazard. Plus, you seem to be missing a washcloth here -- must be in your laundry or something. Well, that's alright. I'm sure I can find a replacement somewhere," he nodded, as Miriam felt the tingling begin to overtake her body once again.

"That's a cop-out and you know it." Miriam points out as she feels herself bristle with soft loops of fabric. "I still win."

"Do you, now," Will said, mildly. "Well, I suppose I'd feel much the same way in your shoes, or lackthereof," he acknowledged, heading for the door.

"We'll see if you still feel like the victor after the shower," he added, waving Miriam's washclothy body around before tucking it nicely over his shoulder.

"And suddenly I wish you could still shift as well."

((Fade to Showers))

Refreshed. There was no other word for it; that what Will felt as he returned from the showers. Did he look a little silly in a light purple women's bathrobe? Sure. But a nice long shower was just what he had needed, letting the stress of the day wash over and out of him. And while Miriam's particular choices of scents for body wash wouldn't have been his first choice, he felt much better after a little primping and personal care. It wasn't quite enough to wash away the weird feeling of being stuck in one form, but it was a good step in the right direction; feeling much more comfortable and sure about himself as he re-entered the dorm room.

Not a bad conversation with Miriam, either; at least, for as long as she could keep up her end of it. Because he certainly hadn't taken it easy on her or been overly delicate. I mean, the dude had lit Miriam on fire earlier that evening, a little soaping and scrubbing was peanuts compared to that, right? Plus, he knew what it was like to be a washcloth; he was sure Miriam would thank him for it just as soon as her brain unscrambled. I mean, probably.