Garrot expected some twitching or writhing or hissing, not a single, deliberate hand motion. But as his advance is rebuked, the doctor loosens his grip, and delicately returns Gyre's feet to the ground. If the rejection didn't sting enough, the curt, almost evasive nature of the response sure did. Gyre's got plans for the rest of the day, but they both knew damn well something like an earthquake or time travel could happen again.

"R-right." He can feel Gyre's gaze as it tracks down his body for a moment, but he can't help but wonder: is this because he overstepped? Will Gyre ever take things further, or will they just flirt and tease forever? So a blush comes almost reflexively, and in fact his hands both remove themselves from the elf's body. His eyes awkwardly follow suit, bounding from the man's face to his chest, then off to the side.

"Sorry." The apology tumbles from his mouth quickly and powerfully and earnestly, and it's clear that Garrot has lost his ability to steer this conversation for a moment. Whoops.