[ finally, some of tseng's tightly-held composure breaks, enough for him to give aerith a look—or at least as much of a look as tseng ever gives, one eyebrow lifted skeptically as he hands the robe over. ]

Do you think I'd offer my shirt if I had a problem walking around without one?

[ she may not hate him, but surely neither of them is about to argue that tseng is the altruistic sort! he wouldn't have made the offer if he had an issue with her accepting—although it is probably best for all of them that she chooses the robe instead. retrospectively, tseng's not sure what it would do to him to see her walking around in little more than his dress shirt.

so he puts his own shirt back on and is halfway to the door in aerith's wake when he hears the tell-tale rattle of a locked handle and looks up to meet her apologetic gaze. ]

It would have been too easy, otherwise.

[ and this place is hardly known for being easy. tseng sighs, ceases his efforts to button up the rest of his shirt, and turns halfway back to the bed where their clothes and the contents of their hangover kit are still strewn about. then he glances back at aerith, looking... a little apologetic too, in his own way. ]

Assuming my... assumption is correct, [ tseng says, ] how would you be most comfortable going about this?