"Nah." He sees that attention in Midnighter's eyes, likes it, but shakes his head. Nudges the tips of their noses together a moment. "No, not that. Didn't scare me. Not for longer than a second, anyway, not proper-scared. I know proper-scared." His hand slides to where Midnighter is tugging questioningly at his towel, guides him to pull it away: here, it's fine, go for it. If he keeps talking while he does it it's easier.

"No. I mean, you look fucking terrifying in that get-up and that alien stuff smells awful, but. Wasn't scared, wasn't put off. Once it clicked, I thought — oh, right, work clothes. And it's flattering that he's covered in blood, cos what does that mean? Means he's come right over. Not a second to lose." The towel falls to the side, and he settles low against Midnighter again, mouth coming to his jaw. Kissing between words, between little playful scrapes of his teeth. "So that's a story, I guess, about — my priorities. And how glad I am that you're here."