Hyacinthe's hands were busy attempting to divest her of her clothing anyway, slowly pulling the tab of the zipper down, sliding his hands over her skin to push the fabric ever downward. His pants were still open, hanging halfway down his hips, his shirt rucked up to show the smoothly-muscled planes of his stomach.

"We shall have to spend some time, just like this," he murmured. "Holding you to me as the world goes on its merry way."