The bathing tools and the oil lay abandoned on the warm beach while two figures caroused in the warm shallows of the lake. Laeonaith appeared to have an unfair advantage, as he was significantly stronger than his slightly puny rider and had a tail for knocking people over to boot. Which was exactly what he was in the process of doing to poor Eiran.
Laeonaith was in the process of soapboxing as he fished his rider out from under the water.
"I think it's just... you know, tradition." Eiran responded once he had finished coughing up water.
Eiran rolled his eyes and trudged the short distance to shore, picking up the shiny brush that his dragon had specified he use. The young weyrling was shocked that his roommate had not raised a fit over all the weird things that kept showing up mysteriously in their dorm room courtesy of the thieving Laeonaith.