Daia scoops up the clothes and closes the bathroom door again, trying them on and looking himself over in the mirror. Well, they're not quite his style... But, it'll definitely do for the sake of warm-and-dry right now. No one said he had to wear them forever.

He emerges from the bathroom, carrying his wet clothes in hand, his limping a little less prominent. When he looks up at Walter, the ear-like tufts of his hair lower a bit, like a curious-yet-unsure cat.

"Where do I wash these?"