He stripped off the rest of his clothes, gritting his teeth. That stupid whore wasn't about to get to him.
But he paused as he reached for his pajamas; what if Crow really did care about him? The hopelessly romantic part of his heart stirred. That would be a perfect outcome, after all. They could have sex, and he wouldn't feel guilty--it would be just love, right? Love was okay. Love was perfect, divine even.
He stared at his shirt for another minute, somewhat torn; what if he just walked into the bathroom, right now? He glanced at the door, blushing even more profusely.
In his dreams he had always been forced, sure, but this seemed far more moral...