Livia Caesarius watched Ragnar Lothbrok with caution, but remained motionless as he walked towards her. Once he reached the bathroom doorway, she would approach him, placing one hand on his forearm and the other on his lower back. His arm must have felt like solid iron, such was the Viking chieftain's strength and musculature from years and years of power development and hardened labor. She tried to coax him back into the hospital bed, but Ragnar wasn't going to have any of that. He was feeling naked and vulnerable, and a bit uncomfortable to say the least. But not in a physical way, for he was fighting his own mentality and trying to absorb everything around him. As she placed her other hand on his back, Ragnar stood upright, appearing even more taller than he had been before.
"I'm alright..." He said reassuringly, though obviously still hiding the pain.
He pulled the wheelchair away from the doorway with one hand while supporting himself against the bathroom doorframe with the other as he slowly shuffled his way into the small patient bathroom, looking around. He noticed a sink and mirror, a bathtub with a showerhead and a porcelain toilet. It wasn't much, but to the medieval warrior, it had been the fanciest most elegant setup he had ever seen before in his life. Surely, the emperor was a very wealthy man, he thought to himself as he stood in the bathroom doorway, admiring its inner workings. He scanned the small bathroom, looking up at the ceiling and the tacky wallpaper. To the Argosian Legata, it wasn't very fancy at all. But Ragnar Lothbrok had fought and killed men for less money than it must have cost to build the place, as he picked up the bar of soap next to the sink faucet and brought it to his nose, sniffing it.
Once again, there was an awkward moment of out of place humour, for anyone who peered into the patient's room would find Ragnar standing in the bathroom doorway wearing nothing but a cheap pastel blue hospital gown which left his backside completely exposed and naked. There were many thin striped scars on his back, some more faded than others, from the hundreds of lashings he must have received at the hands of his enemy captors. He would scratch his ass for a moment before leaning forward and looking at his own reflection in the mirror. He grazed his fingertips over the cross-shaped stitches on his forehead, examining the tight, neatly worked threading. It was far superior to any kind of stitches he would have received back home, and he was amazed at the surgeon's craftiness in sewing him up.
After a moment, Ragnar lifted the front of his gown and suddenly started urinating into the bathroom sink, apparently mistaking it for the toilet. Livia could tell right away that it was going to take some time to civilize the medieval barbarian as he shook his little snake and belched loudly before slowly making his way over to the bathtub. He seemed to display no shame at all as he stepped into the bathtub and dropped his gown, not even bothering to close the door or curtains. He seemed to have no concept of privacy, as he stood completely naked in the shower, trying to figure out how to turn the water on. He fumbled with the showerhead for a second before playing with the knobs. After a moment, he figured out how to turn the water on as a hot stream suddenly shot out and hit him in the face, catching Ragnar off guard.
Perhaps as a natural reflex, he immediately slapped the showerhead away from his face as if defending himself from the unperceived threat. At that instant, the metal cord connected to the showerhead was knocked off of the hook and hit the bathtub with a loud scratching clunk that could be heard in the hallway outside the patient's room. Ragnar just stood there quietly, looking rather embarrassed as the bathtub slowly began to fill up with water around his feet. He wasn't used to this sort of setup, but he was observant as he looked down and studied the fixture. He toyed with the shower knobs again and turned the water off, before turning it back on. He then turned it off, and turned it back on. He turned it off again, and then turned the other knob. This time the water that jetted out of the showerhead was cold. Very cold, but for some odd reason he seemed to enjoy it as he began wiggling his toes again before slowly taking a seat and sprawling out in the tub, draping his arms over the side while resting his head back as if he were laying in an open spring.
"I'm alright..." He said reassuringly, though obviously still hiding the pain.
He pulled the wheelchair away from the doorway with one hand while supporting himself against the bathroom doorframe with the other as he slowly shuffled his way into the small patient bathroom, looking around. He noticed a sink and mirror, a bathtub with a showerhead and a porcelain toilet. It wasn't much, but to the medieval warrior, it had been the fanciest most elegant setup he had ever seen before in his life. Surely, the emperor was a very wealthy man, he thought to himself as he stood in the bathroom doorway, admiring its inner workings. He scanned the small bathroom, looking up at the ceiling and the tacky wallpaper. To the Argosian Legata, it wasn't very fancy at all. But Ragnar Lothbrok had fought and killed men for less money than it must have cost to build the place, as he picked up the bar of soap next to the sink faucet and brought it to his nose, sniffing it.
Once again, there was an awkward moment of out of place humour, for anyone who peered into the patient's room would find Ragnar standing in the bathroom doorway wearing nothing but a cheap pastel blue hospital gown which left his backside completely exposed and naked. There were many thin striped scars on his back, some more faded than others, from the hundreds of lashings he must have received at the hands of his enemy captors. He would scratch his ass for a moment before leaning forward and looking at his own reflection in the mirror. He grazed his fingertips over the cross-shaped stitches on his forehead, examining the tight, neatly worked threading. It was far superior to any kind of stitches he would have received back home, and he was amazed at the surgeon's craftiness in sewing him up.
After a moment, Ragnar lifted the front of his gown and suddenly started urinating into the bathroom sink, apparently mistaking it for the toilet. Livia could tell right away that it was going to take some time to civilize the medieval barbarian as he shook his little snake and belched loudly before slowly making his way over to the bathtub. He seemed to display no shame at all as he stepped into the bathtub and dropped his gown, not even bothering to close the door or curtains. He seemed to have no concept of privacy, as he stood completely naked in the shower, trying to figure out how to turn the water on. He fumbled with the showerhead for a second before playing with the knobs. After a moment, he figured out how to turn the water on as a hot stream suddenly shot out and hit him in the face, catching Ragnar off guard.
Perhaps as a natural reflex, he immediately slapped the showerhead away from his face as if defending himself from the unperceived threat. At that instant, the metal cord connected to the showerhead was knocked off of the hook and hit the bathtub with a loud scratching clunk that could be heard in the hallway outside the patient's room. Ragnar just stood there quietly, looking rather embarrassed as the bathtub slowly began to fill up with water around his feet. He wasn't used to this sort of setup, but he was observant as he looked down and studied the fixture. He toyed with the shower knobs again and turned the water off, before turning it back on. He then turned it off, and turned it back on. He turned it off again, and then turned the other knob. This time the water that jetted out of the showerhead was cold. Very cold, but for some odd reason he seemed to enjoy it as he began wiggling his toes again before slowly taking a seat and sprawling out in the tub, draping his arms over the side while resting his head back as if he were laying in an open spring.