Yes, okay, he's looking for his pants. He only wants to get to the bathroom without blushing himself to death.
"Great, thanks." Martin smiles at her, drains the last of his tea, and plonks the mug down on the nearest flat surface. He scootches to the edge of the bed and kicks his feet out from the sheets. He very carefully doesn't look at her as he scans the floor, locates his pants and drags them over with one foot.
Awkwardly (is there any other way) he wriggles them up to his knees and then in one motion stands and pulls them the rest of the way up, abandoning the safety of the bed sheets.
He doesn't want to think about what he looks like, mostly because he suspects 'pasty' and 'scrawny' are the two adjectives that most readily come to mind.
He chances a glance at her and gestures to the bathroom door.
"Right. Um. I'll be, er, right back. I'll just-" He waves vaguely. "Yeah."
no subject
"Great, thanks." Martin smiles at her, drains the last of his tea, and plonks the mug down on the nearest flat surface. He scootches to the edge of the bed and kicks his feet out from the sheets. He very carefully doesn't look at her as he scans the floor, locates his pants and drags them over with one foot.
Awkwardly (is there any other way) he wriggles them up to his knees and then in one motion stands and pulls them the rest of the way up, abandoning the safety of the bed sheets.
He doesn't want to think about what he looks like, mostly because he suspects 'pasty' and 'scrawny' are the two adjectives that most readily come to mind.
He chances a glance at her and gestures to the bathroom door.
"Right. Um. I'll be, er, right back. I'll just-" He waves vaguely. "Yeah."