Kira's never been body-shy, or any other version of it, and he wanders back toward the bathroom from Ravi's private corner leaving wet clothing in his wake. When he returns, he's in his thermals with a coat pulled over, holding a towel in one hand and a Snuggie in the other, hair mussed something closer to dry.

"I don't know what kind of man you take me for," he asks Ravi passing over the towel first, "if you don't realize I like a little fur on my company." The black length of plush fabric, pilled from use and improper wash, hangs bundled in his other hand. "I'm pretty sure if you turn these things around they're just robes, so you can cover your shame with this."