( seems to be the kind of old man that wants to keep distance between himself and everything--at least from this cursory interaction, and he slides his elbow onto the table, his chin dropping into his palm as he waits. naturally the six eyes are happy to dissect all the information that they can about the depth of this guy's muscles, his stature, and the egregious scarring that seems to be prevalent across his skin. whatever it is this guy fights with, it's nothing like magic, or cursed energy: must be the standard fare, knives or guns or whatever else is at his disposal. at the thought, there's a brief pursing of his lips, displeased; he leaves that memory aside.

it's cheating to keep his pants on, but he'll figure that out in a second. instead, he waits to be beckoned, letting out a long, playful sigh before he pushes up onto his feet, both hands hefting up the skirt of his own dress a little, above his shoes, so that he doesn't trip on himself as he closes the distance. )

Is it just the zipper? Hm~.

( he puts himself at the other's back, reaching with both hands to start to tug either open side together--he gives one weak tug, and then another, and even goes so far as to hold the tops together while he reaches down to tug helplessly at the zipper, but--

there's a sigh, masked in a devilish sort of grin-- )

Sorry. Seems it's not gonna go up unless you take your pants off. Such a finicky thing, right~?