Marco wasn't sure what exactly he'd walked into , but it seemed vaguely hostile, and he was silently thankful that it wasn't directed at him. He kept his head down when no one answered, looking down at the soggy shirt in his hands as he tried to follow and pick up what he'd missed. At least, until the pretty British woman called him out. He picked his head up and looked to her, frowning.
"I, uh," he stammered, "I just, uh, usually throw everything in together." He kind of regretted even asking for someone's opinion.