Sizhui leans, pecks Zhuque's mouth, the corner of it, drifting up to his cheek and across to the tip of his nose while he gets the belt undone and off. Once he moves on to the robes, his head relifts, attention downcasting as he lets the outermost robe slide from his shoulders. “We can do it together,” a soft sigh then, “and please, just call me ‘Sizhui,’ okay? You don't have to... to call me that.”

The other robe Zhuque touches gets shifted slightly too, though not quite off like the first in case his companion wants to help.