She did. Stepping forward again until she was right in front of him. Picking up where he had left off, she lifted her fingers to the lower buttons on his shirt. The open area at the top of his shirt exposed a sliver of his chest - pale, yes, and somewhat scarred, though her own scar in that region was deeper. Having removed the last button, she untucked his shirt from his trousers before sliding it off of his shoulders. His torso was slim and lightly muscular - not the bulky build of Ginny’s Quidditch friend, but wiry yet strong. She felt the slight definition in his shoulders and arms as she pulled the shirt down, and her breath caught slightly when the Dark Mark on his left arm came into view. Pulling the shirt free from his arms, she tried not to stare at the faded tattoo, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. With a snort of amusement, he held out his forearm.