"Oh, you don't have to do that," Lyra tried to protest, but he was already getting up. She bit back a sigh and told herself that she did not shiver as his arm brushed against her side. She took a small step back, trying to reestablish some semblance of propriety--not that there was anyone around who would really care, but it was the principle of the thing damnit.
"Sapphire, I've seen you wear shirts before, you're not fooling me," she laughed lightly, shaking her head when he pointed to the shirt in distaste. "You may not like them, but I'm afraid they're the social convention.
When he asked for her help dressing her instinct was to refuse. But...well, he was only hurt because he'd been protecting her, and it honestly had been a fairly nasty cut...
"Fine," she acquiesced with a sigh, gathering up the shirt and moving to help slip it on over his head, carefully threading his arms through the sleeves before she gave it a light tug to let it settle right. "Here, hold still," she ordered, taking another step into his space--and out of propriety--to tie closed the lacing at his throat.
"There." She looked up, and when her nose nearly brushed his forced herself to take two sharp steps back. "Well. Ahem. Ready then?"