That really couldn't have gone better if he'd planned it. Chase couldn't hide what he's feeling if he tried. He's shocked and flustered between the accusation and the thrown towel, and he's distracted between responding and reacting so that he's giving everything away. He's not really surprised that Chase finds him attractive when he's dancing. He knows that he's good, that he's got the kind of strength and control over his body that come with years of hard work and practice. But he also knows that Chase did mean it like that, because the funny thing about mirrors is that they don't just show you your own mistakes, but the mistakes of others, too. He's seen Chase ogling him right back during practice these last several weeks, and it's not just appreciation for skill.

"Yeah, you did," he says as he comes away from the strict precision of his stance and adopts a casual, fluid gait as he walks towards Chase and snatches the towel back from him. He's eyeing him like he's in the way, like he's an obstacle to knock down, an opponent to challenge, and he comes another step closer, close enough that he's edging into his space. Close enough that the towel is touching Chase again, brushing against his belly beneath the hem of that flowing cropped top.

"It's a shame you won't just own up to it... I dig honest perversion in a woman."

His eyes are twinkling with the insult, the first of many, many subtle ways he'll end up insinuating that Chase is a girl.