Mathew.

After a short but thorough bath with her help-her soaping me up, hands everywhere.

Giggling, "Hold still, Mathew-this is important; can't have you smelling like yesterday," she teased.

I finally wore my fighting clothes that she insisted on me putting on.

Handing them over with a nod, "These are perfect for you-wear them proud."

It was all tradition, nothing more than that ancient custom.

But soon enough in the actual fight, we'd all have to take off every last piece of ...