She smiles a little bit (despite herself), at him; curls her hand into the lapel of his coat and pulls it more securely around her.

"Yeah, well, Alû aren't exactly known for their levels of personal hygiene." She picks up her shirt and stands up to step into her underwear and black jeans, determinedly not pulling a face as she tugs them on.

Pants dealt with, Liz steps in and rests a hand over Red's heart, palm and fingers flat, and leans up to kiss his cheek. It's a quiet gesture, silently grateful.

She pats his chest gently and lowers her hand so she can wring out her shirt and yank it over her head, working around the coat; her boots receive a glance, but they're soaked inside and out, and God only knows where her socks are. She can go without.

She folds her arms. "Wanna go talk the bar into getting us a dry room?" Beat. "If there is one."