>"This is supposed to be healthy?" Phobos asked. He exhaled, sending a puff of cool breath into the hot, humid room. Rivulets of sweat and condensed water were winding down his face, tracing clean lines down his neck, and from there following down his strong shoulders, and muscled chest, lacing down his arms and belly.
"Yes, it is," Artell replied. He tossed some water onto the heater, sending up a great plume of steam. "There's a saying, you know."
"There is?" Phobos asked, looking disconcerted for a moment.
"'Jos ei viina, terva tai sauna auta, tauti on kuolemaksi.' If alcohol, tar or sauna won't cure the disease, it will kill you." Artell said.
"I think I would've liked the alcohol more." Phobos looked around the planked room. "Is the nudity really necessary?"
"It's traditional," Artell explained.
"It is?" Phobos looked vaguely alarmed.
Phobos looked down at the heater, up at the ceiling, and then finally at Artell. "Shouldn't you be seducing me or something?"
"Oh, no." Artell looked distraught at the very idea.
"That's a relief." Phobos wiped his brow.
"That's for later. You shouldn't be having sex in the sauna. The desexualization of the sauna is what has made sauna culture as it is possible!"
"That's perfectly fine with me."
"So, an hour or two from now good with you?"
"Sure. But what do we now?"
"We beat each other with sticks, of course."