Caleb has undressed in far worse places in front of far more people. He doesn't hesitate to remove the simple clothes he'd arrived in piece by piece, conscious of Yussa's gaze on him. Overly conscious, maybe, but in a good way. It's nice to be admired. Knowing that Yussa likes looking at him fills his belly with heat.

Facing the open wardrobe, he removes his boots, then hangs his book holster on the door and tugs his shirt over his head. He opens his trousers deftly and pushes them down his thighs, keeping only his smalls and his woolen socks.

He examines each piece of this new outfit before putting any part of it on, learning in what order and what they fit together. Despite the embellishments it is all quite straightforward, thankfully, which is how he prefers his clothes to be. Redressing happens in the opposite order, until finally he is sliding the jacket over his shoulders and turning to Yussa as he secures the buttons hidden on the inside. All of it fits well enough to him, which is to say that he can move naturally in it, and it is neither sliding off him nor too tight. But he is no tailoring expert.

"How is it?" he asks, looking up from his buttons to find Yussa on the edge of the bed. "What you expected?"