He smirks again, feeling nothing of self-consciousness. Not with Random.

The belt is eased open slowly, then the buttons that make up the fly of these jeans are popped, one by one, his eyes never leaving Random's face. Just before the last button comes undone, he shrugs the shirt off his shoulders and lets it drop to the floor, following it with the jeans.

'You want it all off amarente?' He pulls at the waistband of his boxers, willing to drop them for him but waiting to be told to, with the smirk still firmly in place.