The Artist's Plan
An hour later, Falcon was back with Cyan. He was sure a week's worth of showering would not get rid of all the dirt and grime on his body, which never felt clean, no matter what he did. He lathered soap all over himself and scrubbed at his body for straight two hours, the shower running cold on his back. Little beads of water ran down his back, one rolling into the other. He let the cold numb him, the numbness would give a rest to the muddled thoughts and loud noises inside his head. But the water ran on and his thoughts flowed on.
He was feeling nostalgic for people he'd never met. Orchid Belmont, the woman in the red dress, and John Belmont, the man who'd abandoned them. They seemed like characters out of a centuries-old fairytale; unreal, and dreamy.
Eventually, he turned off the shower, rubbing the towel on his soaking hair. Even this brought back memories, of a younger Veta and Siber waterboarding him, trying to find out where he had hidden all the candy stash.