[Not even looking annoyed at that, his smirk sticks. His fingers draw up the front of Cross' throat, teasing and slow to unfasten the front of his coat. Not the whole way down, just enough to get at the collar of his shirt next.] If you say so.
[He'll trace his digits down the side of his neck if Cross lets him get far enough to get at the skin.] My, that burn's faded, hasn't it.