There'd barely been time for Reutruse to secure his pants and regain his balance once more, before he found himself knocked stumbling across the room, the door he'd been leaning against thrown open with a force he'd hardly anticipated. Catching himself on the brim of the tub--a tub he only then really registered as being there--and narrowly avoiding barreling into the sea of plush pillows held within, he stared, dumbfounded, into the mass of trembling pillows beneath him, illuminated as they were by the momentary flood of light. Eh? Wha...? No way.
As realization dawned on him and his mind's preoccupation with the ever growing need to relieve itself ebbed into guilt, it was difficult to resist the urge to kick himself. Of course it was Keeth, who else would be hiding in a bathtub intertwined in a practical womb of pillows other than the boy. He'd seen him struggle with the Peace Keepers, watched weakly as they practically dragged him aboard and whisked him away to his quarters; that he'd forgotten to check on him, see that he was alright and not burrowing into some strange pillow-y contraption, was inconceivable. To believe he'd abandon the boy to his fears after such a public declaration of fealty--to think him truly such a, well, ass!--there went his entire notion of decency...
"Don't worry about it, it's fine Keeth, really, it's partially my fault anyways, just, could you--" he began to apologize himself, only stopping as another all too familiar voice cut in from behind him, "--I am -SO- sorry, I swear, and this is going to sound like a dick move, but if I don't... Well, I've got to piss like a race horse, so if you guys don't mind having this discussion until after I'm done, that'd be great. Two seconds." Nooooo, it wouldn't--couldn't be him, no way, not even, that's just, cruel, what would even be the chances..? Pivoting around on his heel to face the latest entry into the room, Reu was aghast, yet hardly surprised, to see that, why, yes, it was in fact Marvel. It was at this point that the blonde had come to a conclusion: chance no longer factored into anything in his life, fate was out to get him.
It'd been luck that his hands still remained on the tub's ridge, seeing as how his knees buckled under the weight of his latest revelations, eyes darting between the two occupants of the room, himself, and everything in between as he struggled for words. That expression of Marvel's he'd only managed to catch a glimpse of, how he avoided even glancing in their direction, the way he himself loomed over Keeth even still, disheveled and flustered as he was, a tub shoved full of fluffy cushions and the like--"Oh, no, no, nonononono! It's not what it looks like, with the me, and the him, and the you walking in--I came in here to pee too, just pee, nothing more--not that I'd have any problems doing anything with um, actually, ignore that last bit, yeah, I just, pee--have to--really bad--pleaseee?" Reutruse forced out in a hardly coherent blur, voice dying down to a pathetic plea by the end as the all consuming urge to peeeee wrought it's torment upon his body. It was a dam about to break, sapping every ounce of willpower in his body's efforts to resist relieving himself right there, right then; if his pained, contorted expression, previous rambling, and antsy pacing from foot to foot failed to speak exactly how intense his need to urinate truly was, he'd...Mnmdfer, happy thoughts, they'd be able to tell, Marvel can hold it, everything would be fine, happy thoughts! Happy. Thoughts.