Predictably, there's an annoyed noise but no desire to pursue the argument any further. Then again, maybe it's because Ken is liable to tear through his clothes right now even without his claws and that's something of a distraction.

To get Ken's attention, Chikusa gives a sharper yank of his hair. "Stop that," he grumbles. "You'd get through it faster if you went slow." Which is going to sound like a contradiction to him, he can already tell, but it's true.

As if to prove his point, he drags his free hand down Ken's chest. He'd never say it, but he appreciates this difference between them: the way Ken is built so differently, the shift of powerful muscles underneath cloth, the excited beat of his heart that he can feel against his palm. If he had his way, he'd linger and take his time, but Ken is in a rush. So he goes straight to the buttons on Ken's own uniform, trying his best to undo the buttons there with only one hand. It'd be a lot easier if Ken wasn't being so... himself.