[ He's not even going to dignify that with a response, because he's a no-fun-allowed dour little hater. Sorry Beowulf, you deserve better than the withering stare Fuuta just directs at him before deadpanning: ]

Actually I don't care. Never mind.

[ Then he shuffles to sit up, starting to turn around on the bed. ]

I'm gonna check for -- ... [ hickies ] -- if there's anything, so stay there for a second.

[ Yes, he knows it's kind of prissy for a guy to be self-conscious about being seen shirtless, but he has his reasons, okay. Fuuta sighs as he starts undoing the topmost few buttons of his shirt to peek down under the fabric. ]

-- so is that your name, then? Wolf?