[ The front of his shirt lifts under her palms as he lurches back, and when the fabric reclings to him it's at a new rumpled angle. He readjusts, looking down, thoroughly and freshly aware of how uncomfortable his skin is.

It's not the worst kind of uncomfortable. He's just noticing things about it, like how it's more insistent over the warmest points on his wrists and at the nape of his neck. ]

If I'm dying of glitter consumption, I'm already dead.

[ He shuffles over to the hatch and shoves a few more pathetic palmfuls of glitter aside, then staggers to his feet so he can lift with his back, not his knees. ]

And you're going to feel terrible - [ he grunts, softly, hauling on the handle with determination, the edges starting to loosen - ] - because it'll be all your f-uck!

[ Alec careens back as the door pops free, kept upright by virtue of still hanging onto it as he rocks up on his heels in shock at his success. ]