Shoma lifts herself on both her toes and tries to look over at him, where she notices him staring pitifully back at the condition of the sink.
Inferring that he may need more help than he can say out loud, she waddles in closer to him—tilting over to the side to take a look at the sink. She retches, scrunching her nose in disgust and she spits.
"That's a lot of cleaning," she observes, as though it isn't the most obvious thing. "We should try washing out the dirt, and then we can start scrubbing the dishes. Sink or—?" she asks.
Hinata, looking at the number of dirty dishes, shakes his head vigorously and promptly responds, "I'll take the sink."
There is a small white container with dish soap and an assortment of sponges in front of him, tearing and old with repeated use. He chooses one of the sponges as he pleases, the bigger ones that are almost the size of his palm.
