"I got a lotta fucking time to make up for." He lets Neil slide out of his arms and onto the bed and immediately he's dragging Neil's shirt off over his head, hands coasting back down his sides. But he pulls back to look, then--really look, because again this is an echo of darkness, and he wants to take time to soak in the light.

He scratches his fingers lightly up Neil's chest and throat, stops at his chin, tilting his face up. "And apparently I got some competition to show up."

And he's relieved to discover that he's mostly kidding. Mostly.