Ford shrugged emphatically at the question. "Your maid doesn't seem to be doing a very good job of it," he pointed out, though he suspected the state of the room was far more Tycho's fault than any of his staff's. Ford bent to collect the balls of paper, wondering how he was going to flatten them out into a stack while keeping his promise not to read them, until he noticed movement from the bed out of the corner of his eye. He hesitated, feeling the hair on the back of his arms and neck stand on edge. He didn't look over at Ty directly, but he was very much aware of the progress of Ty's hand on the stocking.

"Could you — not undress while I'm here, please?" he asked, for the first time since arrival not sounding annoyed. Undress any more, he should have said, because Tycho was already at least half undressed — but seeing his skin as a static object and watching him slowly revealing more of it felt qualitatively different.

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