All that and a taint joke too. "Maker. You're really the worst." Leave it to Isabela to take an off-color play on words and drive it a few more shades off. Carver couldn't help but snort, shrugging off his cowters and then both steel plates from his forearms. Wrapped and tied around his right arm beneath the cowter was a red and black patterned scarf, which he took off and folded up with his armor without any comment.

No sooner had he set those aside than Isabela pounced on him, shoving him back onto the bed. For a moment, Carver was 19 again and all nerves and anticipation and sexual frustration that he didn't know what to do with-- right up until this moment, he'd still been a little unsure that she wasn't making fun of him with all this. But nope, here he was, down to his tunic and trousers, on his back with Isabela looming over him and well on her way to beating him undressed.

His skin was flushing pink, despite his better efforts, though he managed to look more grimly determined than he did uneasy. He sat up enough to peel his tunic off over his head, at least giving her a decent view of his physique-- as well as the stylized Mabari tattooed on the right side of his chest.

He did hesitate on slipping off his trousers for the moment, though that could have been because he was distracted staring at Isabela.