"I don't get why you're laughin'. They're your fault." He was muttering under his breath to you in order to avoid being head clearly on comms, a task of which the churning puffs of sand that lashed against your uniform and skin seemed more than happy to help with. His comment was in reference to the series of bright hickies scattered across his neck and jaw which his scarf didn't seem to be able to cover fully despite his best attempts. Your excuse was you were "even" now in terms of mark making, your justification being the bright red bite mark that still sat on your inner thigh. Though that, he argued, was at least easier to cover out of the two and no one would see it. Though his nearly beet red face was funny, he still found the threat the hickies posed to be serious. Considering Diamond Dogs status as a mercenary group, it wasn't illegal for him to be dating a subordinate but it was still greatly frowned up even if he couldn't be dishonorably discharged for it in this situation. He sighed and attempted again to cover the marks with his scarf while mumbling to you "Next time I'll get you one on your jaw or something and we'll see if you're still a barrel of laughs then. Yeah?"