[One of his shirts. Not that he terribly minds the sight of a cute little thing in one of his shirts, but given the situation, he gives her a wide, toothy smile. Like a hungry great white eyeing a seal from far below the surface.]

Ignore him for a moment, dear. I believe that doesn't belong to you. [The shirt, or Cross? Hard to tell.] You're going to get dressed back in whatever you came here in, and you're going to leave, and Mister Marian is going to be thrilled to see his husband, isn't he?