AFter a bit of a struggle, Ferdinand managed to pry the soaked shirt off over his shoulders. If Manuela stole a peek through the open door, she would certainly get an eyeful. He was in peak physical condition, his chest broad and muscular despite his lean build. There were a few minor scars here and there, earned from minor cuts and wounds earned during the course of the war, but nothing that hadn't healed properly.

He grabbed the dry shirt and began to put it on, distracted somewhat by her praise. He felt the tickle of a blush on his cheeks, and he couldn't help but smile. "From the very first moment I first saw you at the Mittelfrank Opera Company, I dreamed of being on that stage with you," he confessed, starting to close the buttons on his shirt one by one. "I dare not pretend to be even close to your level, but performing alongside you... it would be a dream come true."