What he planned to do was anything but orthodox, and less than normal–in fact, this would normally be something of an act that would land one on a list, but he had on advantage he planned to use to its fullest:
Right now, once again, I'm a twelve-year-old boy! That means–I'm totally innocent! Free of suspicion! This is my chance! I'll take a bath with Celly! He thought.
With utmost confidence, he tossed his clothes away as if he was some sort of male dancer, tossing them to the floor as without hesitation, holding a smile of overflowing belief in himself–he opened the door with a push of his palm.
Immediately, Celly's eyes widened as she looked towards the door, covering her chest, "--Wha? Emilio?!"
"Yo, Celly," he greeted her with his best attempt at a suave introduction.
There was no attempt by him to cover his own body as he strutted into the bathroom like he owned the place.