If there was anyone who had absolutely no problem at all with a shortage of clean shirts, it would be Gladiolus Amicitia.

The only reason he was even wearing one now was for Nell's sake.

That was, until the sauce got him.

"Oh. Well."

He'd taken off his shirt for way less before. Even considering that it had been a black tank top where you could barely even see where the sauce had landed in the first place.