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The instant that the doctor called her for his weekly shave, Sasha was jittery with anticipation. She'd been secretly stockpiling towels in the doctor's office; Sasha didn't want to hint too hard that she was really looking forward to that shave, but. Well. Sasha was really looking forward to that shave.

It took the trainee approximately three minutes and twenty-six seconds to show up at the doctor's office with a small kettle full of too-hot water, a large bowl, and four more towels.

And.. the office door was closed.

"Sir? It's Sasha."

She cleared her throat loudly, insistantly tapping her foot against the bottom of the door.

"Sir, my hands are full. Can you uh. Open the door."

She cleared her throat again. A little impatiently.

"I'm here for your shave, sir."

Sasha glared at the door.

"Sir?"

Sasha's glare transferred from the door to the doctor, though it lessened in ferocity when she noticed the amusement that was evident in his eyes.

"Well, sir, honestly," Sasha shuffled into the room, easing the door shut behind her with a well-placed nudge of her foot, "you can never be too prepared when it comes to towels."

Sasha moved into the office with great purpose and set the other supplies aside. She removed her jacket and threw it over the back of a nearby chair. Rolling up the sleeves of her dress, Sasha lifted her eyebrows at the doctor.

"When's the last time the blade was honed? And do you have a strop? My papa had a two-sided strop. Leather and linen. Well, he had a paddle too, but wasn't as fond of it."

Sasha immediately snatched up the shaving kit, unzipping it as she sent the doctor a very serious look.

"What else would I have in mind? And um. Where will you sit, sir?"

Sasha grunted as she removed each and every shaving article from the kit. Everything appeared to be top notch, but she didn't really expect anything less from the doctor.

"I don't know who uh. Ford Prefect is. But."

She shuffled around, pouring the kettle of water into the large bowl. It was piping hot, steam coiling upward from the surface, and Sasha immediately plopped two small towels into the bowl.

"I'm glad we feel the same way about uhh. Towels."

Sasha glanced over her shoulder at the doctor, arching a brow.

"Messy? I mean," she turned and busied herself with the soap and brush, applying hot water to soften the bristles, "I'm not going to uh. Like. Do you.. are you worried I'll cut you? Because. I swear, I'm pretty good at this, sir."

Finished with the soap, she lifted up the razor, holding it up as she carefully opened it, holding it carefully by the shank.

"It's good to see you take such fine care of your tools, sir." The blade was indeed sharp and would need no refining, thankfully. "Have you already washed your face?"

This was very. Serious. Business.

Sasha carefully set the razor aside, turning to face the doctor.

"No, sir. If Clarice washes your face for you, I'll do the same. I just. I didn't want to if you'd already done it."

Sasha took a step forward, almost looking as if she intended to push him back into his seat if he thought to argue.

"Honestly, sir. Just. Pretend I'm Clarice." She pursed her lips. Maybe that had been a silly thing to say; after all, he'd either purchased lingerie for the woman, or some ridiculous shoes.

"I mean. As far as this goes."

Sasha cleared her throat as she reached for yet another towel, dampening it before soaping it up.

"Being pampered, I mean."

Sasha snorted - loudly - when the doctor sat back down. She approached with the soapy towel, juggling it briefly as she fumbled for an answer.

"I'm .. I didn't mean. I just. It was only to."

The towel was a tolerable temperature, and so for lack of a better answer, Sasha applied the warm, soapy towel to the doctor's face.

"I just meant. Well." She scrubbed, gently, quickly and efficiently, "If you don't usually wash your own face prior to a shave. You ahh, you don't need to do it while under my care."

Sasha fell silent, using a soapless bit of the towel to wipe his face clear.

"Doctor, please, believe me when I tell you, okay. I don't mind."

Sasha folded the towel over her arm, reaching forward to run her palms down his cheeks. Her focus was entirely on the direction and texture of his whiskers.

"And.. this is more of a," she ducked down, carefully tilting his head back so that she could get a better look at the scruff on his chin and neck, "a.. a hobby, sir. Something fun. I enjoy it."

She grinned in an attempt to reassure him before moving away, discarding the soapy towel before reaching for the hot towels in the bowl. She squeezed the water from each of them before approaching him once more.

"Hot towels. Ready when you are, sir."

Sasha wrapped the hot, damp towels around the doctor's face..

As the hot water worked its magic, Sasha turned to the soap and brush. She hummed softly as she worked up a nice, thick lather.

"Anyway, sir, you're my boss. It's.. not like I can tell you 'no' when I'm told to do something - I mean, as far as missions go? I don't ah," she lifted a corner of the towel and ran a finger across his cheek; the whiskers were softer, more pliable - but not quite there, "hold it against you, you know?"

She turned her attention back to the soap.

"And I'm .. I'm glad I could .. you know. Make it up to you."

Sasha cleared her throat.

Sasha paused in her careful lather-whipping frenzy, glancing at the doctor's towel-swathed face before she rolled her eyes.

"Well, sir," Sasha removed the towels with a flourish, "you do have the most um. Breathtaking beard," she deadpanned, turning to drop the towels back in the bowl she'd retrieved them from.

Without waiting for a reply, Sasha picked up the soap and brush, promptly swirling the thick lather across his face. She paused, mid-swipe, pulling back before waving the brush around idly.

"In fact, sir, I'm.. I've been thinking about it. Maybe everyone should grow a beard. Not as glorious as yours, sir, because I very much believe that would be impossible, but. You know, a less-glorious beard. Even a patchy beard."

She went back to applying the lather to the doctor's face.

"And then. We could. Harvest the beard-power, doctor. I think this is a very viable technology. Beard technology. Kind of like, um. Runic technology. But with beards. Or mustaches."

Sasha gave him a droll look as she swirled the lather-laden brush along the doctor's upper lip.

"On a serious note, I'm.." Sasha squinted in concentration as she deftly applied the frothy lather, "sorry if your feelings were truly trampled, sir."