Jone only realizes it's a (very dry, desert dry) joke at the last moment. A little huff of laughter escapes her, less at the content of the jest and more at Gabranth making it at all. She kisses his shoulder one last time-- now entirely red from bites and sucking kisses, all the way to his neck-- and begins slowly to move away from him.

"Oh, are you the sort that likes having his shirts worn by someone else?" She's known the sort, and the thought is very endearing. Endearing enough that she misses Gabranth's wandering gaze.