[Every movement Childe makes here is boggling to the warrior. Fingers toy with his hair and he struggles not to squirm again; the very thought is hesitant, as though the thought alone could have been brought about by the harbinger somehow.

It's easily as baffling as how he moves away, leaves skin somewhat lost without its touch. He ignores that, of course.]

... and we simply can't have that, can we?

[It's a sarcastic mutter as he moves. The intent is obvious - his relaxation and the warmth of the water are over and gone. Childe holding out a towel for him is just another factor. It's more fabric than the entirety of what he's been told he'll wear... and it reminds him of that somehow, as though he could ever forget. What is this man, even?]

... you're really planning on putting me in those scraps, after all this.

[He feels tired, bringing it up. Of course he will, because Zhongli is his pet. Even so, when he rises to step toward the man, he does so with head held high and the same disgust in his expression. His silence is fairly telling, too - he could snap his jaws like an angry pup, but he won't. His ire will exist in the silence between them, curling into his words only when he has to respond. It's all he intend to give the young man, of course.]