Even in the dim light, Draco is somewhat distracted watching Billy's hands doing... what they're doing before the words filter through and he manages to kick his brain into action, not to mention his magic. Then he's smirking quite a lot, and his wand (the magic one) is immediately in his hand.

A swish and a murmur sets every one of the buttons at his wrists, down the length of his shirt, and two at the clasp of his trousers to pop open in quick succession. He squirms a bit out of his topmost layers, which fold themselves neatly on a nearby table, revealing not only pale shoulders and the faint line of a scar across his chest, but the much fresher word printed neatly on his forearm. A gift from Loki.

But Draco barely notices what he's revealing, too busy narrowing his eyes speculatively at the young man perched on the table before him, his wand twirling once unconsciously between his fingers. "...Are you particularly loud?"