Her gaze follows his, and she looks down at the darker drop of silk with a vaguely confused air.

"...oops?" There's a quiet sound that might be a giggle on someone less refined, not that her currect state is anything approaching refinement. Her hand lifts to touch it, the tip of her index finger lightly brushing the wet fabric before it falls to her side. "You wanted me to take it off at some point anyway, didn't you?"

For Art. Of course.