He shakes his head. "I am aware, but men and women are likely to oggle any flesh you might bare in their company here. At least crouch behind a bush if you intend to strip down next time."

Heading to a flattish rock, he takes out a piece of chalk from his pocket and scrawls a rough circle, drawing runes with a frown of concentration. Once he's done, he pockets it again and whistles for his familiar. The gwiber appears promptly out of a dark portal, attentive and curious.

Hades lays the damp shirt in the centre of the circle, out of the way of the chalk lines, and focuses. One snap of the fingers and a flash of light later, it transforms into a damp towel.

"Here," he says, picking it up and holding it out for Hythlodaeus to take back.