Fisk pulled back and Ford leaned into him without even thinking about it, reluctant to put space between the two of them again. As soon as he realized he was doing that he stopped, forcing himself to stand up straight, but he felt like he'd given himself away all the same. Not like there was much left to give up at this point, was there? For all his confused thoughts at the beginning of this interaction, Ford hadn't put up much of a fight. It wasn't like he could stand here after that and claim he hadn't wanted it just as much as Fisk had, or maybe more. But what he wanted was irrelevant here; what was relevant was what he was risking by doing this, and what it might mean for everyone else if he was caught.

Fisk's face was flushed. Ford wondered if the rest of his skin was, too. His eyes sank to the man's collar briefly, but then he hurriedly forced his gaze back to Dorian's face.

"We should —" he began, but left off. He could not actually push the word stop from his mouth when it was the last thing he wanted to do.