“Hey have you seen my Grey t-Shirt anywhere-“ his breath hitches, watching you lay underneath your bed covers with your hand snug between your thighs. “Oh, shit.” He groans, averting his eyes and swallowing harshly behind his mask. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why didn’t you knock?” You retort, lifting your head and snatching your hand away quickly in flush embarrassment. “Look, I’m so sorry I was just looking for my Grey T-Shirt.” He says gruffly lifting a hand in a silent defense as he averted his eyes. “Well, I don’t have it, so go check somewhere else.” You say, shifting slightly so your z shoulders poked out from under the sheets as he looked back down at you from the end of your bed. “Wait, is that my T-shirt you’re wearing?” He asks, his voice darkening as he watched you shuffle in embarrassment. “What?” You asked, feigning innocence. “No, why would I be wearing your T-shirt?” You add thickly. “No that’s definitely my shirt.” He says, his eyes fixated harshly on you as you try to hide back under the covers. “Hey, stop trynna hide under the covers. Let me just see it.” He then leans down, forcing them off you slightly as you lay beneath his towering height now at the side of your bed. “So you are wearing my shirt?” “Yeah and what about it?” You snapped, meeting his eyes in a tense field. “It’s the only clean thing I could find and it’s comfortable.” “So you’re telling me it’s just a coincidence your hands are between your thighs, wearing the same T-shirt I was just wearing?” He scoffs, raising a brow under his dark face paint under the skull balaclava he wore. “It’s not even like that.” “I’m not dumb,” he chuckled grabbing his belt now. “I know what you’re doing, you’re so fucking desperate.”