Bishop scoffs quietly, “I can walk, thank you. I said I’m tired, not incapable.” They’ve have full blown fights when he was more tired than he is now. And to be fair, Bishop is always tired. He barely sleeps at this point.

He leans a little into that nosing, but then takes a breath and looks at his watch for the time. He could clock out (ha, clock out. Do they ever really clock out?) now and it would be fine. He can do everything he does in the office, in his bedroom.

Twisting the chair back and forth he smirks down at the other, “You should put more of the pink in your hair.” And with that he paddles his ass with his hand a few times, up you go. He scoops up the lace bottoms and dangles them on a finger for him.