Jouno likes to pretend he's oblivious to the fact that the other Hunting Dogs are onto them. It's not that he's embarrassed by Tetchō -- okay, there's a bit of embarrassment -- but he's always been a private person. Having his personal life, what little of it exists, known isn't something he's fond of. It's too close to having a visible weakness.

Nonetheless, he would like to be able to sleep in the same room as Tetchō. Despite the added noise of Tetchō's vitals, there's something oddly soothing about hearing his heartbeat at night.

"It's worse than usual," Jouno protests, even though it really isn't. Tetchō normally smells like sweat, at least, and while Jouno hates it, he's also come to be fond of it in a same way. That doesn't change the fact that he'll scrub him down at every chance that he gets though, including now.

While technically bathing is supposed to happen before one gets in the hot spring, Jouno doesn't particularly care when it's just the two of them. It's nice to touch Tetchō whenever he can, whenever no one is looking and he doesn't have to keep up the act of hating him completely.

He uses the cool towel he brought in to wipe Tetchō's neck, dabbing away the sweat that drips there, and then moving lower to wash his chest. He's moved closer now, as much as he can without being in Tetchō's lap completely.

In return to the question, Tetchō gets a very Jouno response: "Fine."