The conflicted feelings didn't go away as he watched Fisk running his hands through his hair (Ford wanted to know what his hair felt like, but he'd missed his chance now and was unlikely to get another one) and then down along his jawline (Ford wanted to put his mouth there, not so much to kiss him but to push his tongue along that line where his skin curved back towards his neck, tasting his skin and maybe feeling just a bit of stubble somewhere along the way if there was a tiny patch Fisk might have missed when he was shaving that morning...). Ford watched him nod, then swallowed a large lump in his throat. He wanted to say something, but he didn't feel up to it. Instead he flitted into the room as quickly and nimbly as he could to retrieve his coat, then went back to the doorway.

"Alright," he managed, when he had retreated to safety, outside the range of Fisk's magnetic pull. Ford's eyes flicked back to him and he wet his lower lip again without thinking about it. "Sorry," he said again, as he took a step back towards the hallway. "'Bye."