The moment they open the door, she can smell the moisture in the air. Her free hand comes up and her fingertips rub together, feeling it in the air. Her mouth falls open in a soft exhalation of wonder. He's saying something about clothes, but she's too stunned to really hear him.

On her world, such a thing would be a gross extravagance, a blatant and needless display of wealth. But she's not on Barsoom, she has to remind herself. People bathe here, as in they soak their bodies in litres of water. They use hot tubs. There are streams and ponds and lakes and oceans of the stuff. A private bathing pool like this is probably not uncommon. She'd just never dreamed of such a thing.

She looks from him to the pool, back to him. "You did this -- for me?"