[He only has the vaguest sense of what to do here. Armitage was not actually popular with any other sentients, and those who did bother to interact with him intimately only did so because they wanted something from him.
This is likely not very different. Something in the pleasant cloud in his mind reminds him of this. But he had not cared before — why should he care now?
So his hands set to roaming a bit more indiscriminately once cool air touches his chest. He is a pale and thin man, save for what few genes he had inherited from Brendol‘s lineage. The broad chest, the fiery red hair, and the only muscles he’s ever bothered to put work into: his hands.
He is fascinated by the texture Yennefer’s change had brought. The carapace doesn’t quite fold under his grip, nor does it crunch or flake away. But her dress is still an obstacle, so he sets to pulling at it to try and get it out of the way.
His rips are not as clean as her’s, but they are enthusiastic, and that’s what matters here.]
no subject
This is likely not very different. Something in the pleasant cloud in his mind reminds him of this. But he had not cared before — why should he care now?
So his hands set to roaming a bit more indiscriminately once cool air touches his chest. He is a pale and thin man, save for what few genes he had inherited from Brendol‘s lineage. The broad chest, the fiery red hair, and the only muscles he’s ever bothered to put work into: his hands.
He is fascinated by the texture Yennefer’s change had brought. The carapace doesn’t quite fold under his grip, nor does it crunch or flake away. But her dress is still an obstacle, so he sets to pulling at it to try and get it out of the way.
His rips are not as clean as her’s, but they are enthusiastic, and that’s what matters here.]