It's gratifying, that short delay before he answers. Well, not verbally, but a response all the same, as he hands her a shirt from the dresser. She sets it on the bed for now, working on methodically stripping out of her current clothes. Off come the boots, the pants, socks, shirt. There's nothing intentionally teasing about it, though she knows he's watching.

Last to come off is the compression vest, which she sighs after it drops to the floor. His shirt gets pulled on, familiar in the way it swamps her smaller frame.

"Then I won't have an excuse to wear yours." She says with a grin, as she neatly rolls up the sleeves. There's a logic in it, of course. Keeping a spare set of clothes isn't such a terrible idea. But maybe she likes how the air seems to shift as soon as she puts his shirt on. Maybe she likes being able to turn her nose towards the collar and catch his familiar smell underneath the soap.