As she brushed past him, Arthur dropped a small mobile and his business card into the suit jacket pocket. She'd find it later, or if she found it now he'd hopefully have a chance to explain it without anyone else watching.
Unconcerned for the most part, Arthur handed her the pile of clothes and pulled the heavy curtain to cover the entrance of the small room. There were mirrors on three sides and pins stuck into the carpet. "Let me know if you're not sure how to put anything on," he said, in French, with a Frenchman's view of modesty in general (that is, a fashionable disregard). She would probably take it wrong if he suggested lingerie. He decided that was where they would go next, and if it looked like she was in danger of dying of embarrassment, they would leave again. Or she would slap him. Either way, it might be worth it. Arthur hadn't had the chance to shop for a beautiful woman since Mal died.
He stepped over to a discard rack nearby and started sorting through it as he waited for her to change. "Just come out when you've got a set on and we'll see how it looks," he babbled, eying new things.