Eiffel takes the hand with a warm smile, and lets himself be pulled up more than he does stand under his own power; his legs are still a little bit jelly and his shirt's a fucking mess, so that's coming off without thinking even if he's still off-balance.

"Hold on-" He's got this it's fine, and he grabs two fistfuls of his back to drag it over his head so he doesn't get cum all over his face. As he glances down at the inside-out shirt, covers in too many bodily fluids, the thought visibly passes across his face before he says it out loud. "I... don't think I have any spare shirts here."