Neil laughs and leans back a little bit so it's easier to take his shirt off. He still leans into styles of the fifties more often then not--neat collared button-downs and t-shirts underneath, though he's more lax with jeans instead of trousers, but he'd also dressed up for a date tonight. When his shirt is gone, he rests bashfully for a moment. He's fit still, though he hasn't done sports for the past couple years now, and he's aware of the freckles smattered all over his chest and shoulders, standing out against his fair skin.

Fair's fair. He focuses on Harry's shirt as well, wanting to see him too.