Heaving a small sigh of relief, Cade wasn't much comforted by the actual command, but at least she didn't mean a demonstration. He slowly rose to his feet, and glanced behind her at the door again; it was ajar, and that bothered him, but he reasoned it would be even worse if it were closed.
He had the look about him of a slinking dog as he set down his extra clothes and began to undo his doublet, his hands beginning to shake with increased anxiety the farther he got. He glanced at Nerva periodically, perhaps just to make sure she was still in the same place, not getting any closer, not making any move to touch him. Still, when he began on the lacing of his shirt, he couldn't stop himself from backing up a little.
There was shyness, and there was near-paralysis brought on by the notion of undressing in front of someone. His hands jerked oddly, and he had to stop and take a deep, shaking breath every couple of seconds before he finally turned his back to Nerva and pulled his shirt up over his head and shoulders, keeping it bunched around his arms and ready to put back on the instant he was directed.

His back wasn't a pretty sight. There were obviously no new marks, but a wide variety of twisting, snarling scars, some cut-like and some clearly impact wounds. They were mostly over his upper back, and tapered off not far below his scapulae.
Cade shook like a leaf all the while, staring fixedly out his small window, trying to keep himself grounded despite how vulnerable he had just allowed himself to become.