A wry, humorless smile tugged his lips. "Then you'll be one up on us when we get out," he quipped.
He did nod to her request, and a faint smirk crossed his lips. He couldn't imagine a lot of situations in which he'd want to wear a sweatshirt, so he figured they were safe there. "Sure thing," he said as he left her to her shower. He didn't mind how long she wanted to stay in; she was kind of a mess and he knew from his sisters that sometimes girls just sat in the shower to feel better. If it helped her, he was fine with that.
While she was in there, he dug out his sweatshirt and the sweats that had been provided by the show. He was a little concerned about the pants staying up on her -- she was an awful lot smaller than he was -- but he guessed the shirt was big enough to maybe be enough for her with some blankets. Either way, he set them at the foot of the bed and got the blanket down from the closet, setting that out too.
He also entertained (while trying not to) some other ways the night could go. Not realistically, of course -- he wasn't the sort to take advantage and he'd honestly rather she get some rest than anything else. But he was a guy and he had thoughts. He couldn't really help the thoughts. Just the actions. The thoughts were still new enough to him to create their own breed of confusion, and he figured if he was going to do anything, ever, they should talk first, when she wasn't dealing with the seemingly never-ending blows of people leaving.
He was seeing what was in the kitchen (besides soda, and a snack pack of peanuts, not much) when he heard the bathroom door opening. "The clothes are on the bed," he called toward the room, figuring she'd see them, and also figuring she was likely only wearing a towel and reasoning it was best he not risk the temptation or what she might see on his face if he was in there.