"Shit, yes, of course I need to wipe." Daniel Cooper said as he slowly stood up, his left hand reaching for the buckle of his belt. Then, with a metallic click, his suit pants fell to the floor along with his belt.
Amelia heard the sound and instinctively looked over, then frowned slightly, "Why are you taking off your pants?"
He looked puzzled and retorted, "How else am I supposed to wipe my legs?"
Amelia, "…You need to wipe your legs, too?"
She had thought that a quick wipe over his upper body would be enough to bluff her way through.
Instead, she saw the man casually explain, "I'm not a refrigerator; I can't control the preservation and freezing of my upper and lower body separately. If I sweat, it's all over my body. If I'm going to wipe, obviously I have to wipe everywhere."
Amelia, "…"
Why so many absurd excuses?
"And you know, I have sensitive skin. If sweat lingers, I will get a rash."
"…Fine," she realized he was indeed a delicate one.
