Margaux grips his hair at the nape of his neck and applies her improvised wash-cloth to his face, entirely unmoved by his protests, saying only, "So is the filth," as far as the matter of water now being in his boots. And then a moment later, "Mademoiselle," since he was at least trying.

She has a firm hand for how soft and small - she seems to be trying to work out what's beard and what's just disgusting, Yngvi, what the fuck.

"You are a little more sober now, eh?"