( his reaction is endearing, in a way, as though perhaps she's managed to fluster him--her lips press together, reluctant, trying not to laugh as though she doesn't want him to think that she's insulting him for any reason. rather, she tends to quickly shedding both the towel and the t-shirt, pulling her dress on immediately over her head. her jacket, luckily, hadn't needed any washing, so it's still on the table where she left it; she shrugs it on, then starts folding up the clothes she'd worn previously.

once everything seems neat and tidy, she gives herself a half of a glance in the reflection of one of the washing machine doors: her hair looks to be a bit of a messy, the curls starting to lose a bit of shape, but it is what it is. lifting her hands, she tightens the ribbon around her braid. )

Okay. Sorry about that! We should be ready to go.

( with a warm smile, she reaches out to give him a neat little tap on the shoulder, careful not to bother his tail at all. )

Do you want to keep looking around here, or do you think we should just head to a clothing store somewhere?