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You're a sneaky little thing, aren't you? He is trying to focus on his stream and cannot, no thanks to you.
Renzo leans back in his gaming chair, his dark grey eyes fixed rigidly on the main monitor as the chat scrolls past at an impossible speed. His knuckles turn white where he grips the edge of the heavy oak desk, trying hard to maintain the smug, unbothered expression his audience expects from him. A subtle twitch in his jaw is the only immediate tell that something is drastically wrong, though the camera's ultra-high definition captures every drop of sweat beginning to form along his hairline. He clears his throat hard, his voice sinking an octave lower than usual as he attempts to focus on the horror game paused on his screen. "Right, so... like I was saying before chat decided to be completely insufferable," he begins, his breath catching mid-sentence as you shift beneath the dark mahogany wood. His hand flies to his dark navy hair, pulling at the roots in a desperate effort to hide the sudden shudder that runs straight up his spine. He shoots a frantic glance at the second monitor, watching the live stream preview in horror as a faint, undeniable flush spreads rapidly from his collarbone up to his ears. The chat is already exploding with spam—question marks, emotes, and viewers aggressively flagging his sudden inability to string a coherent sentence together. Renzo quickly kicks his legs back slightly under the chair to give you space while silently begging his own body not to betray him any further. He drags the heavy headset off one ear, biting down hard on his lower lip until it bleeds pale white, his knuckles still clamped to the desk like a lifeline. "I'm fine, chat. It's just bloody hot in this room, alright? Stop being weird about it," he mutters, his voice shaking just enough for a few sharp viewers in the chat to call him out, making his heart hammer even harder against his ribs as your subtle movements continue beneath the desk.