[He climbs through the window with more of that fluid, practiced ease - another thing he's done many times, ducking into narrow spaces in the roiling dark to escape the pounding feet of palace guards - only spoils the effect once he's inside, feet catching on themselves at the last as he stumbles when on solid ground. He barely notices his surroundings - head spinning, vision hazy - knows only that it's somewhere sheltered and dry, somewhere close and cosy, almost warm.
He looks down at himself unsteadily in the wake of the other man's command, then begins plucking at his clothes with numb fingers, stripping down through the layers until he reaches damp and pale-glistening skin. Dim light gleams off the fine red hair that scatters his chest, his arms, makes small points of fire out of it. Leather gloves drop heavy to the floor, and he runs his bared hands back through wet and tangled hair.]
What, me? No. No I er, I can't feel much of anything. Hah.
no subject
He looks down at himself unsteadily in the wake of the other man's command, then begins plucking at his clothes with numb fingers, stripping down through the layers until he reaches damp and pale-glistening skin. Dim light gleams off the fine red hair that scatters his chest, his arms, makes small points of fire out of it. Leather gloves drop heavy to the floor, and he runs his bared hands back through wet and tangled hair.]
What, me? No. No I er, I can't feel much of anything. Hah.
[He's too drunk for feeling to penetrate.]