"That's usually the way it goes," he replied with a shrug, sliding fingers through Tracer's hair briefly, ignoring looks and strange glances. Two men couldn't embrace and have a private conversation without everyone getting all huffy over it? He ignored anyone else who might be in the room and concentrated solely on Tracer.
"Clothes do clean," he shrugged causally, taking Tracer's hand and following him down towards the basement, remembering the way remarkably well considering he'd only been there once. Or maybe the pull of Organic led him to the dirt. He missed the warm dampness, the feel of spores, and he didn't realize how much he did until he was nearly there. "Would you rather I come back filthy?" he asked. "Hands can feel so much even with clothes on, I don't need to take them off to remember you - for you to remember me. Something to cling to before winter settles in, that's all I desire..."