[i] Desmond didn't say anything, standing up slowly. He still only had jeans on, his shirt never having been there. It was strange, this was the first time Chloe had seen him in anything that wasn't armor..much less shirtless. The black and white rose tattoo stood out on his collarbone and covered the scar where his master had stabbed him; other, minor pale scars littering his body. He spent a lot of time either training or hitting the gym, because while he wasn't muscled like Lance, what he did have stood out prominently. He was in shape, but he wasn't buff, purely for the fact he had a Wetboy's body. Shorter, lithe and graceful. His biceps and chest/stomach were outline with chiseled muscle, but it was clear he was more suited for speed and not power. Just like a trained killer should be. He unconsciously laid a hand on the knife at his thigh, where he'd strapped it back in earlier, looking for the Inquisitor with curiosity..and a little anger. [/i]