"Mel, I have been seeking you since the morning! Where are you?"
Tranquility was a profoundly distant dream for him, an objective failing to be breached. He had cleansed himself and unearthed the most euphoric method to dry, yet a familiar voice was breaching his proximity. It was not merely him; the footsteps of ten vastly more figures accompanying him were heard, and Mel comprehended he would be denied the opportunity to revel in his delight any longer.
"Moses, what justification compels you to roar?"
When Mel hoisted himself to his feet, water continued cascading from his vessel, yet his flesh had dried; his garments would dry within half an hour at maximum. Moses would deny permission for this; trailing an exhaustive sweep of Mel from top to bottom, he persisted in conversing deploying his signature high-pitched yet formidable tone.
"One of our figures executed a misstep this morning. Pardon us; we shall govern that matter!"
