...I'm a guy. Some of it kind of goes without saying. Stuff I'd already figured out, I mean.

[He hums under his breath, regarding his cocoa and the way his hands are wrapped around the mug; after a minute, he frees up one of them and reaches over to rest his palm flat against Polnareff's chest, pressing the latent heat in against his shirt to warm beneath his hand.]

Look. This feels good, right?