"And face the wrath of Nubs McShouty? Nah," he offered calmly. He set the folded file of fabric on top of his shoes, and frowned sort of blandly at his puffy shorts. "Don't be alarmed, I'm taking off my pants." Fuck it, he didn't even care. They'd nearly had sex on LOMAX three different times anyway, he'd seen him out of his pants and standing at full attention. So he shucked the shorts and the leggings. "I don't like to dance, so pass me some sleep pants," he said to his sylladex, and it dropped a pair of black track pants with an orange racing stripe at him. Jake had probably seen them before. He peeled his heart-emblem tee off over his head carefully and then stepped into the pants without looking up at Jake.