A/N I've been told that doing one of these involving Clay wouldn't be necessary, but I just don't want to leave him out. It might not be as good as the other two, but Clay deserves a turn in one of these.
Clad with his usual cowboy boots, carrying his usual Texas-sized sandwhich, Clay Bailey took his time getting to what he called his room. It wasn't so much as a room as a stall, three others of identical size next to his. There really wasn't very much room and privacy was a fragile privilege with only a curtain to separate their "rooms" from the hall.
They team training session that Raimundo suggested had been sudden, but it's exactly what the other three monks wanted out of their leader. The usually laid-back Dragon of Wind (in training) had been working himself to exhaustion most nights since advancing to Shoku Warrior, and the abnormal behavior of their leader worried them. If it was Omi working himself to the bone, it wouldn't have been a big deal since that's what the Dragon of Water (in training) usually did anyway. But the fact remained that it was Raimundo, and not the short monk, that was acting unusually out of character.
"Yo Clay! Would you quit dripping?"
The Dragon of Earth (in training) turned toward the slightly irritated Brazilian's voice, surprised to see him scrubbing the stone tiles of the floor to finish up his chores. Upon further inspection, Clay found a trail of barbeque sauce that originated from the very large sandwich in his hands that Raimundo was cleaning.
"I'm sorry 'bout that, Rai. I'll be happy to clean it for you." Clay offered, the Texan accent dripping from his voice as heavily as the barbeque sauce just before shoving the rest of the sandwich in his mouth. He bent down, picked up a brush, and began scrubbing alongside his friend.
Old slacker-Raimundo would have gladly left all the work to gentleman-Clay, while he would have refused the help just earlier that day, but now that Kimiko had talked some sense into him, he didn't object.
"How long have you been scrubbin' this here floor?" Clay asked.
Raimundo continued the chore as he looked at Clay and replied, "Not long, maybe five minutes."
"Ain't you usually skating with them brushes on your feet?" The Texan used two fingers to mimic skating with his hand.
"I was, but it wouldn't get your mess off the floor." He pointed at the trail of barbeque sauce to clarify that he didn't mean the dirt from the cowboy's boots.
Instead of responding to the comment, Clay changed the subject, "You've been working mighty hard lately."
Raimundo paused and groaned, "Oh, come on. Can't a guy change without everyone questioning him?" First Omi didn't believe he would work, then Kimiko told him he shouldn't work alone, and now Clay was starting this conversation.
"Just hear a guy out, partner. I'm just sayin' that you don't have to work like a pack mule runnin' uphill from my Auntie Gertrude."
The blank look Raimundo sent back told Clay that the metaphor whizzed over the top of his head and into oblivion. His thoughts were confirmed when the Shoku Warrior replied, "That meant diddly squat to me. Could you try speaking a language people can actually understand?"
Clay sighed and tried again, "There's no need for you to work yourself to death."
"Now that I can understand." Raimundo approved. The advice hadn't been at all necessary, since Kimiko had already given him similar advice as he washed dishes.
Raimundo continued, "Kimiko already gave me the bit about working as a team. I don't need it twice."
"Maybe you do. You wanna know why?"
Raimundo started, positive that being told once was enough, "I really don't think I need—"
Clay interrupted him by saying, "Because maybe you really have changed."
