[His eyes drink in the slight of her as the towel falls away, and the flush rising to his cheeks isn't the responsibility of the hot springs. Or, at least, isn't entirely the responsibility of the hot springs. But though he's easily flustered, he doesn't avert his gaze, couldn't take his eyes from her if he tried. A captive audience.]

I was thinking that after a long day of rehearsal, a nice massage might be nice after all that hard work, [he suggests,] Though I'm certainly open if you have other ideas... [He has always been good with his hands, after all.]