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It had been a very long day of battling in the colosseum and humiliating the curs who dared to face him. Zote was disappointed, but not surprised, to find he was covered in dust and various other dirty particles. He had expected this after such rigorous battle, but staying like this too long could make him sick, as he knew from experience. He had even written Precept Thirty to remind himself.
So Zote made his way to the hot spring to bathe himself and clean his cloak.
When he arrived, seeing nobody else was there, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a pink bar of Zote soap. It was his favorite, as anything that shared his name was clearly of top quality. He removed the cloak and made his way into the hot spring, enjoying the warm water surrounding him. As he scrubbed himself clean, bubbles filled the hot spring. He dipped his head beneath the water, remembering not to try and breathe it again, and popped back up.
The water ended up splashing his cloak, and Zote realized that he’d have to get out to bring it over to the spring. Grumbling, he stepped out of the water, raced over to where his cloak lay, and tossed it beside the mouth of the spring. He shivered as the breeze chilled him, and skittered back to the spring, nearly slipping on his trail of soapy water as he did.
Washing the cloak was easy, but after trying to wring all the water out of it, Zote remembered why he didn’t enjoy getting it dirty in the first place. He’d have to wait for it to dry out- wearing a wet cloak was uncomfortable. And getting out of the spring again would just make him cold again, so until his cloak was ready he was stuck in the water. At least he didn’t have to worry about that getting cold.