White groans and swings his legs out the side of the bed, sitting on the edge and stretching his arms above his head. Soft pops escape from his joints as he lowers his arms, releasing all the pressure that built up as he slept. The noise of shifting sheets opposite of him draws his attention, turning his head and watching as Racheria slips out from under the dark satin sheets. Soft muttering passes through her lips as she stretches her back and arms over her head while leaning back, posing like she is in a shower's spray. He rumbles softly at the soft curves she exposes with black fur tipped in blood red, then snaps his head forwards at the blank wall.

'First, ensure Racheria's life at all costs. Second, secure both allies and equipment, namely transport, armaments, and personal protection. Third.... Deal with any active threats against Rach personally.'

He thinks, imagining the checklist taking form on the wall as he mentally says the directives.

With a sigh he stands up and walks over to the foot of the bed, opening the chest sitting there and revealing a multitude of folded pants inside, from multicolor combat fatigues to single shade dress pants. He picks a pair of dark earthen brown ripstop cargoes with six large visible pockets lining the legs, unfolding it partially and setting it over his right forearm as he walks over to the large wardrobe. He touches a panel to the left of the wardrobe that activates low-brightness lights within the room, then opens the wardrobe with his left paw and reveals a small, spaced rack filled with undergarments taking up the bottom portion, while at least fifty various shirts and other upper body wear hangs from a bar above.

Grabbing a long sleeve sweatshirt with sleeves covered by some hardened material, he slings it over his cargoes then digs in one of the bottom racks for undergarments.

-----------------------------

Racheria lowers her arms as she hears him shifting in the wardrobe, turning left and perking her eyebrow at the sight of his entirely bare back. A distinctly modified shaded iron cross with a pair of simple, three tip arcing wings spread over his upper back by pigment augmentation tattooing, nicked in places by fur-removing scars that riddle his entire back. Her gaze lowers to his solidly toned butt just as he leans forward, giving her a perfect view of his heavy looking sheath and balls before she could blush and look away.

'That was easy girl. Don't think about how he felt in damn it!'

She thinks while bending over, taking her panties from off her mountaineering pants and shaking them straight.

"I have a shower if you want to use it Rach. We'll be moving rapidly once we've secured the things from here we'll need, so I recommend that you do. It could be a bit of time before you get a chance." He says from the wardrobe with a pair of underwear briefs now draped over his arm as well. She lifts her right arm and sniffs, then huffs from the slight musky odor attached to her fur. With a sigh she lowers her arm and walks over to his side just as he drapes some medium size socks on his arm..... Well, medium size socks for his almost giant feet compared to the rest of him.

"Can you tell me where? We didn't exactly do a full homestead exploration from," she glances at the digital clock sitting on the left bedstand, "Over 9 hours ago. Damn, we slept that long?" She folds her left arm underneath her chest as her right paw rubs the base of her muzzle, slight confusion spread over her face. He lifts his left arm and points at the sliding door to the left.

"You know that enclosure on this wall of the other room? That's a full bathroom. Towels and some soap are inside there as well," he replies, his arm jutting from his hip as he stands and turns around to face her. "I'll start gathering the essentials while you are in there, so take your time."

She fights the urge to look down below his chest as he stands before her unbothered by his nudity, knowing that he hasn't bothered to cover himself at all. Lifting her sight to meet his, she lowers her arms then presses a paw right over a unique tattoo just below his left pec muscle. The tattoo has three evenly spaced slashes at the upper left, upper right, and direct bottom on the outside edge, with three needle points leading from the spaces down to the sides of a concave edge triangle in the center. The triangle has an empty V sitting in the center, thick at the middle then tapering off at the ends.

"... What does this mean?"

She asks softly. He rumbles softly in his chest as he covers her paw with his, forcing a slight shiver from her due to his heated touch.

"... It marks the vulnerable place on my body. A defect in my rib cage that leaves my heart closer to the surface."

He says, then drops his paw from hers. "Now, you should go take a shower while you can. It'll be a little bit before we're ready."

She nods then walks over to the door and slides it open, turning her head back at him for a moment then closes it behind her as she moves through.

-----------------------------

White sighs and places a paw on his forehead after she closes the door, rubbing softly as he walks over to the bed. He sets all the clothing down on the sheet then starts to get dressed as he hears the sound of the shower starting, his sensitive ears picking up the slight pattering sound of water falling on the tile. With a chuckle he continues putting on the sweatshirt then sighs, fully clothed save for his boots. Crouching down by the foot of the bed, he reaches underneath and pulls out a large weapon case then tosses it on the bed, flicking it open via three heavy latches. Inside rests several slotted handgun models on the left side, with at least three full magazines for every pistol in the center. The right side holds ammunition boxes stacked in slots for the variety of calibers used by all the handguns there.

'Good. I don't need to take more time to load some mags.'

He thinks, a devilish smirk taking place in the corners of his lips.

-----------------------------

Racheria walks with a slight bounce in her step around the bathroom enclosure, softly humming a song as she opens the foggy glass door to reveal an almost gleaming bathroom. A porcelain sink stands centered in the large space, with a toilet and towering mirror to the right while a glass spacer separates the full shower. Four racks hang right of the door on the glass spacer, holding a gray towel on each one. She walks over to the shower and breathes in the mixed scents as she opens the door, looking at the black tile flooring and clear glass shelves with containers of soaps to the stainless steel shower head staring at her from the black-to-white gradient tiled far wall to the right, high above the water control dials.

'Damn. I wonder how much money it took to build this place, let alone the price for materials and transport.'

She thinks, reaching down and slipping her panties off then stepping inside as she closes the door. Carefully she walks closer to the tiled wall and turns one of the dials, unluckily activating the cold water spray onto her head. She growls and turns the other one slightly, warming the water up by a noticeable degree against her fur. A few more twists and the water warms to a steaming perfect temperature, a pleased sigh escaping her lips as she leans her head back while closing her eyes and lets the water spill down her neck all over her body.

Opening her eyes and reaching to the right, she grabs what looks to be a bottle of soap and flicks the cap open beneath her nose, flooding it with the fresh scent of a strangely familiar early morning hardwood forest lakeside. A quick glance at the label causes her to giggle quietly, shaking her head to stifle it.

"No wonder this seems so familiar. Same name."

She says aloud, wiping away some moisture gathering over the 'Hardwood Lake Morning' nametag.

-----------------------------

White slams the M&P40C magazine into the grip then racks the slide with one fluid motion, flicking the safety on and sliding the loaded weapon into a hidden holster built inside the inner thigh of the fatigues. Three extra mags follow to the straps against the holster, each secured by a button strap. He zips up the opening and folds the cloth flap over the top, covering the zipper from view with two buttons. He pats the now hidden weapon then leans over to the weapons case, grabbing a belt holster and M&P40 from the inside then does a quick field stripping of the weapon. Satisfied with the maintenance level, he pieces the weapon back together and slams a magazine and battle chambering a round then reaches out, grabbing a rigger's belt that was tossed nearby some time ago.

He deftly fixes the belt onto his waistband with the firearm holstered on his right hip, partially hidden by the sweatshirt when pulled down. A sigh escapes his lips as his wrist cracks while reaching for a dark tan earth Glock 40 pistol, slipping an extended twenty round magazine into the grip then chambering a round. He closes the case and locks it with four more mags in palm, setting the case on top of the bedsheets then turning and walking through the sliding door into the bathroom. His eyes trace the form vaguely shown through the enclosure's fog glass as he steadily moves into the wide open enclosure, setting the firearm down on the edge of the sink followed by the spare magazines.

"There is a pistol and mags for you on the sink when you're done. It's loaded."

He says as she yelps and growls inside the shower, then stands before the large mirror on the right and opens it up to reveal a decently sized bathroom supply closet there, filled with a variety of soaps, towels, washrags, and other washroom things. He grabs a pair of large towels and drapes them over his shoulder, walking out and shutting the enclosure door behind him. He quickly moves back up to the ground floor then lays the towels on top of the table, smoothing them out with quick but steady strokes across the surfaces. With a nod he moves away from the table and walks into the living room via entry gap, pressing against a board in the support wall then sliding the hidden panel to the side to reveal multiple metal ammunition boxes and medium-caliber rifles stored inside, some marked by heavy use, others seemingly polished enough to swallow light.

He reaches out and grabs one rifle with each paw, drawing them out from the hidden alcove by the barrel guards as he retracts his arms back. A slight smirk forms on his face as he studies the two rifles, one a barely used 7.62 NATO H&K417 with a custom 22" blued barrel and Trijicon TA648H 6X48mm ACOG sight on the full length upper rail and Harris slap down bipod on mounted to the bottom rail towards the muzzle. The other is a battle worn M14 EBR-RI with a flip-down dual scope mount latched onto by a Trijicon TARS101 3-15X50mm in the rearward grip, while a Trijicon FLIR T75 ThermoSight sits in the forward flip-down set for low-visibility engagement. A foregrip sits close to the receiver and larger Harris bipod sits to the end of the bottom rail, utilized as a QRW system.

He moves back over to the table and lays the M14 down on a separate towel, then turns and checks over the H&K's receiver and bolt opening with familiarity. A quick flick and tug to the lock pins releases the upper receiver from the rest, separating the rifle in his paws and setting both portions down on a towel. He continues to remove the bolt carrier from the firing chamber as a subtle silence descends onto his ears within the house, followed by the barely identifiable sounds of the glass shower door opening up.

'Sounds like she's out. Good. She can learn how to use one of these then.'

He thinks, chuckling as he pulls the bolt out.