Ishiah's hands are intent enough on remembering him that Robin makes short work of the rest of the buttons on his shirt, slipping it off before folding it neatly and discarding it on the low coffee table in front of the sofa.

His fingers find the waistband of Ishiah's pants next, teasing in between the fabric and the smooth, warm skin beneath.

"A pleasant surprise," he corrects. "Stop flying into windows. Leave that for the canaries. There are better ways to think about this. We'll deal with it. I am as irritated as anyone, but I am willing to let the truth take its time ... with some gentle helping along. Are you?"