He huffs a little laugh as she complains about his uniform, feeling a little dazed already just from the wet heat of her mouth on his throat, and hurries to help her divest himself at least of his jacket.

He shrugs out of it and lets it fall to the floor without caring, leaving him in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, everything primly buttoned and starched as it befits a proper guardsman to be. In this instance, however, he feels just as irritated towards it as she does.

"It is not supposed to be attractive," he protests, still smirking, abandoning his ethersilk waistcoat for the time being so he can instead reach for her again.