[for a moment Rincewind's brain is blissfully, beautifully silent. No worrying about whether he's so rusty at this that she'll hear him creaking, no pulsing heart-palpitations over whether each kiss dotted over Harley's skin signs away his right to call himself a wizard - it's all gone quiet. Except for her giggling, which surprises a smile to Rincewind's face and a flush to his skin once he realizes she's not laughing at him. She's enjoying this, and he's a part of it, so he can't be completely terrible, can he? There's a thought to put a spark of confidence back in -

The wizard jumps, bony knees knocking into Harley with a muffled, and yet still high-pitched yip at the sudden, fruity dousing. He breaks away, awkwardly spinning in a semi-circle to try and fan the soaked fabric from his skin.]

N-no! No, it's - well, it's just wine, right, and it's already red, so -

[his awkward dance does little to actually fix the issue, still wine-splashed from his neck to the small of his back. Rincewind fights a grimace and finally submits to peeling the robe off entirely.]

Just a little sticky now. Have you got a towel?