[Her gaze follow his to the towel. Which means that her hand has indeed dropped its guard. She neglects to lift it again as she splutters, grey eyes blown wide behind broad spectacles.]

What do you mean, wh-what's wrong with it?! It's not pants!

[He can't go out like that. He just can't. He must be making fun of her.

Surely that's only reason he'd come closer. Or keep offering a helping hand, blithely dismissing all indecency. He's practically sauntering over here. She scoots back, but only by an inch. If that. What a filthy boy. Absolutely vile.]

You're not serious. [Her grip on the door handle has cinched tight. To fling it open, or slam it shut? Who can say.] If you l-leave looking like that everyone will think you're some kind of...of rapacious skank!