There are a few inevitabilities when it comes to having a roommate... One of which is changing when in a shared space. Mitchell tends to keep his confined to the bathroom, if only because he doesn't yet know how Dorian would react to certain— facts about his anatomy. Not that he's ashamed by any means. Quite the opposite actually, proud of the scars adorning his chest ( a sign of his determination to live as the truest version of himself ) and the unaltered state between his legs.
But he'd rather not get into that conversation so early in this endeavor.
Needless to say, seeing Dorian shirtless was bound to happen sooner or later... being caught staring, however, was something he would have preferred to push to ❛ later ❜ . Choking on a startled yelp as the bouncer's eyes abruptly meet his own, no longer aided by the shirt the large man had been pulling off, Mitchell hastily tries to paint his staring as something NOT to be completely mortified about.
Clearly, that means owning up to it with a well-practiced smile and a brightened tone, ❝ My, you certainly have quite the impressive adornments! ❞ A hand motions toward the other, gesturing up and down to draw attention to the tattoos smattered across his musculature. ❝ Forgive me for staring, but I assume that is the intent when decorating oneself, is it not? ❞ There. Plausible deniability and honestly, not fully a lie. Merely a fraction of the truth, in case the other isn't comfortable being... appreciated in such a manner.
The heat accenting his freckled features doesn't exactly hide the extent of his admiration, but at least he's not being overly-forward about it. - (( *Y E E T S* lmao ))
The general idea around 'changing habits' hadn't been something to even cross Dorian's mind, in all honesty. Why would it? He wasn't in the habit of just straight stripping down in front of Mitchell, but changing his shirt or pants while still having his modesty covered was just a given to him, just as it had been back at home.
So, when he realized he had grabbed the wrong shirt to put on after his shower, he simply walked out into their room after putting his pants and such on, a towel wrapped around his neck to keep any excess water from dripping off his hair and to the floor as he made his way to his dresser. Dorian had only realized Mitchell was staring because he'd said something to him, only to get silence as a response. Looking Mitchell's way to see why, and perhaps repeat himself if he wasn't busy, brown eyes met the critic's own, only to earn a yelp of all things.
Dorian couldn't help but smirk as he turned to fully face his roommate, arms coming to cross his broad chest as he waited for the other man to collect himself.
"Stare away, that is indeed what they're there for." Sort of, but if it got Mitchell to look at him like that, they could be whatever the fuck that man wanted. Leaning a hip against his dresser, Dorian himself couldn't get away without a light flush to travel along his cheeks and down to his torso, freckles normally too faint to be seen popping out from the darker contrast beneath them.
"...You didn't hear what I said, did you?" Not that it was anything important, he...truthfully just wanted to make Mitchell squirm for a bit, for fun.
