As you try to make your way through the city, circling around the edge of a crowded square, a putrid stench assaults your nose. You see several passerby wrinkle their noses and retreat in disgust as a skinny hooded figure emerges from a back street with slow, measured steps. Covered in dirty, tattered rags, the figure - presumably a female, judging from her diminutive frame - slowly approaches you. Spare a coin for a poor soul, sir? She mutters a learned phrase in a hoarse, monotonous voice, her accent suggesting this is not her native tongue. As she outstretches her thin hand, a single fiery curl of disheveled hair escapes her hood, the sole spot of color in an otherwise drab and grimy appearance.

Well... yes and no. I could always use food and coin, but... if you're offering your help in a different way, I wouldn't mind that either. It can be hard to find someone who cares these days. Her eyes dart around nervously as she says this, her voice barely above a whisper.

You seem like a good person, then. Her expression softens ever so slightly, her eyes meeting yours for the briefest moment before darting back down to the ground again. She takes a tentative step closer, casting furtive glances around her as if worried that someone might overhear them or try to interrupt their conversation. You can see she's not used to being trusting and open like this, but there's something about you that makes her feel safe for now. Maybe it's your sincerity; maybe it's just blind luck on your part.

What sort of help were you thinking of offering? *She asks softly, gently wringing her ragged sleeve between her fingers. Her words come out quiet and measured, as if she's trying to avoid drawing too much attention to herself.

Well... food is always welcome, of course. I can't remember the last time I had a proper meal. And shelter for the night would be wonderful too; these streets aren't kind to someone like me. She shudders slightly, her voice thin and reedy in the still air But if there's anything else you might think of... I suppose I could ask for it then. It's hard to know what might help when you've lived on the streets for so long.

You seem... kind. Your offer is much more than I've ever hoped for. Thank you... I-I'd be honored to accept it. Her expression softens further, a small, almost hopeful smile playing at the corners of her lips as she steps closer still, basking in the warmth emanating from your presence. It's been so long since anyone has shown her such kindness that she finds herself almost unable to believe it now that it's finally within reach.

I... I don't know how to properly thank you. Perhaps someday, when I have the means and the opportunity, I can help someone else in need just as you are helping me today.

It's beautiful... I could never have imagined such a place belonging to someone who would help me. Thank you so much for trusting in me; I promise I won't disappoint. *Her words are whisper-soft, almost dreamy with wonder as she takes in the sight of your home with wide, unblinking eyes, seemingly unable - or perhaps unwilling - to tear herself away from its welcoming glow and warmth. She follows you hesitantly up the path leading towards your front door, her steps cautious yet increasingly confident as she grows more comfortable in this unexpected oasis of safety and kindness.

A shower... I haven't had one of those in so long. It would be wonderful to feel clean again, even for just a little while. Thank you; your kindness truly knows no bounds. *She follows you obediently into the bathroom, her gaze traveling around curiously as she takes in the unfamiliar fixtures and scents. Her body feels heavy with exhaustion, making it difficult for her to keep her eyes open even as she carefully undresses behind the safety of a nearby shower curtain. As she steps into the steaming water, relief washes over her in waves, and for the first time in what seems like forever, she allows herself a small sigh of contentment.

I-I'm sorry. I was so focused on feeling clean that I completely forgot about bringing one... *Her voice trails off, a pang of guilt shooting through her as she realizes her thoughtlessness may have inconvenienced you. Her eyes dart around the bathroom again, searching for anything - a towel, even a cloth or rag - that might serve its purpose in drying her off. Finding nothing suitable, she makes her way out of the shower and onto shaky legs, water dripping from every inch of her body onto the clean tile floor below. She tries to contain a shiver as she stands before you, bare and vulnerable.

Please forgive me; I'll make it up to you somehow...

I-I'm sorry... I shouldn't have put you in this position... Here, let me just dry myself with my clothes. *She begins to rub herself vigorously with a dirty, ragged blanket of tattered cloth, wincing as the rough material scrapes against her tender skin. Her nipples harden into buds against the cold air, and she tries to hide them by drawing her arms across her chest. Despite her discomfort, there's something strangely erotic about being seen like this; vulnerable yet desired.

Perhaps... perhaps I can make it up to you later...? She offers hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper as she meets your gaze for the briefest of moments before looking away again.

I-I couldn't... you've been so kind already... besides, it wouldn't be right...

Oh... thank you... *She takes the offered towel with trembling fingers, grateful beyond words for your kindness. Slowly, she begins to dry herself off, carefully avoiding any accidental exposure as her body is bared to your sight. Once she's mostly dried, she pads back into the bathroom to retrieve her discarded clothes and changes into them, feeling slightly more presentable - though still far from decent by most standards. Her cheeks are flushed with embarrassment, but there's also a strange warmth radiating through her as she continues to bask in the afterglow of your generosity.