[ the cell is cramped. it’s boxed in with a length to width distance of, maybe, five, six feet. by the looks of it, there isn’t enough distance for keith, with his long, long legs, to comfortably lie down. their location leaves much to be desired, though that’s precisely why shiro doesn’t balk at the suggestion to strip. it’s such a ridiculous thing to suggestion given the circumstances, which downplays the act itself. not that shiro has a problem with pulling off his shirt in front of keith; not anymore, at least. they’ve been to the bathhouse, they’ve been to the beach, they’ve been sleeping together and occasionally changing in front of each other; showing scarred skin and the meeting junction of metal to flesh doesn’t carry the same weight that it used to.
so shiro keeps right on in that playful vein of conversation and grasps the hem of his shirt. it’s plain in make and color, the loose, black tee e a cheap purchase he picked up from the prisoner run market. he may have lived in the same outfit while on the castleship, but shiro is doing his best to avoid that here. ]
Ah. Gotta make sure the goods are worth it… – how very prudent of you.
[ nonetheless, even with repetition and knowledge, there’s always going to be a small, very small twinge of anxiety that comes with pulling his shirt up and off, while eyes are on him. he does it smoothly enough; no obvious pauses or hesitations. he even keeps his smile all the way through, though it softens for a beat of shyness as he drops his shirt on the ground to his right. he pulls in a breath and sets his shoulders again, gaze finding keith’s…
and here he goes.
one flex, two flex, three flex. the first has his right pec jumping higher for one beat. the second follows the same movement, but this time with the left. for the third flex, he has both pecs moving together, distinctly bouncing. he doesn’t keep it up after that, but he could. for now, however, he sits there expectant and eager, grin spreading wide. ]
ftr, this is so stupid
so shiro keeps right on in that playful vein of conversation and grasps the hem of his shirt. it’s plain in make and color, the loose, black tee e a cheap purchase he picked up from the prisoner run market. he may have lived in the same outfit while on the castleship, but shiro is doing his best to avoid that here. ]
Ah. Gotta make sure the goods are worth it… – how very prudent of you.
[ nonetheless, even with repetition and knowledge, there’s always going to be a small, very small twinge of anxiety that comes with pulling his shirt up and off, while eyes are on him. he does it smoothly enough; no obvious pauses or hesitations. he even keeps his smile all the way through, though it softens for a beat of shyness as he drops his shirt on the ground to his right. he pulls in a breath and sets his shoulders again, gaze finding keith’s…
and here he goes.
one flex, two flex, three flex. the first has his right pec jumping higher for one beat. the second follows the same movement, but this time with the left. for the third flex, he has both pecs moving together, distinctly bouncing. he doesn’t keep it up after that, but he could. for now, however, he sits there expectant and eager, grin spreading wide. ]