[ 'Can you' is all she has to hear to automatically gravitate toward him. She comes to a complete stop in front of him — a purposeful move on her part; reminding him of Hux at his back would be a poor idea, and this way he has a view of who's undressing him — and tries to ignore the implications inherent in disrobing him. Approaching it as a mechanical task, she begins to pluck at the buttons of his tunic, blessedly avoiding snaring the collar on his mess of hair this time. As it's stripped away to expose bare, pallid flesh, she averts her attention the span of his arm-guards, unlatching them with a simple press of her thumb.
Don't stare. She's not staring. She is very much not staring as they, too, clatter to the ground. Swallowing thickly, she looks away and into the contents of the bag, snatching the first garment she can see. ]
Lift your arms for me.
[ That came out far huskier than she'd prefer it to be, but she's valiantly ignoring that as well as she waits for him to heed her and stretch out his arms in order to slide the fabric over his head. ]
no subject
Don't stare. She's not staring. She is very much not staring as they, too, clatter to the ground. Swallowing thickly, she looks away and into the contents of the bag, snatching the first garment she can see. ]
Lift your arms for me.
[ That came out far huskier than she'd prefer it to be, but she's valiantly ignoring that as well as she waits for him to heed her and stretch out his arms in order to slide the fabric over his head. ]