It's a perfectly timed pause, not long enough to leave him looking stricken, just the right length to make a grin crack his face when she finishes her thought. More than fine. He leans in to kiss her collarbone, maybe a little in apology for coming crashing down on her, but also because it's a perfect segue to keep working his way down, picking up where he left off with the bonus of no shirt in between them. Which, though the other way had a reckless charm, is probably way more effective for her.

Being way more careful of his balance, he raises a hand to help her shove at his waistband, heedless of any possible injury. It'll take a while for bruises to bloom anyway, right now he's got bigger concerns. Like getting out of his pants without falling again, which he somehow manages, kicking them off the edge of the bed to join Carol's shirt in its uncertain fate. His shirt, too, come to think of it.

They'll deal with those questions later.