
Her giggle turned into a full laugh, and Shahar reflected her without thinking. He let out a chuckle of his own, although it could hardly be called such; there was no sound to accompany it, just the quiet rush of moving air and a subtle bouncing of his shoulders.
She agreed strongly. I suppose you might prefer something less revealing.
Yes, please, Shahar replied with warm amusement.
The hunter looked down at the bright blue tunic, realizing that it would probably be more difficult to get off than it had been to get on. Still, he had to try; Shahar began at the bottom, which was the loosest area, pulling it up awkwardly and trying to get it over his head. The side effect, however, was that he could no longer see, which made it a hundred times more difficult when he lost his grip on the cloth. He got it back soon enough, but by then he was no longer sure exactly what part of the shirt he was gripping. Abandoning that train of thought altogether, Shahar ended up going to the bunched-up fabric at his ribs, rolling the garment higher and higher until he managed to get his head free. From there, it was a simple matter of getting his arms out.
Shahar realized that, in his difficulty, he had turned the entire tunic inside out. Blinking sheepishly, he spend another moment rectifying it before he handed the thing back to Rue.
Apology.