Mark couldn't help but notice how nervous Glibt was about the change. Maybe it was the connection, because it wasn't as if he'd said anything out loud prior to the off hand comment before disappearing into the bathroom, but Mark knew. He couldn't help but feel guilty about it. It was his fault after all, and this had been the sort of thing he'd been trying to avoid as it came to his change in careers. The point was to make life easier, not make him nervous and uncomfortable. "I'm not going to hate it." Mark didn't bother trying to be discrete about things, and kissed Glibt back, but this time on the lips. "I'm not going to hate it," he repeated.
Glibt turned and went into the bathroom and Mark sat down on the king sized bed-- one of the few pieces of furniture in the house (it was quite possible that he'd had one of the campaign assistants purposely find a house that wasn't furnished because he knew that his fiance would appreciate it). His transformation was going to be far easier than Glibt's. Mark Garret was only eight years removed from Mark's current reality and it wouldn't be hard to pull on him again. He wasn't sure how much he was looking forward to revisiting this body, but at least the Clinton Years held some good memories.
It was over almost as soon as it started-- the form was that familiar. Mark opened his eyes, realising he'd fallen back on the bed. For the first time in eight years there was hair in his eyes. And it was brown hair. He pulled himself up quickly and felt the waist of his pants start falling slowly down his hips. His dress shirt was a bit big and his tie was loose.
He felt newly chizled cheeks turn a dull red when he turned around to face the newly formed Glibt. Rolling his eyes, Mark quickly kicked out of of the too big pants and just let the dress shirt fall over his toned chest as it would. "Don't say a word."