Being something of a dab hand at potions back in his day, Lucius is more distracted that he's been doused in moonlight than he is at the prospect of running water and clean clothing, momentarily distracted by her distraction, the smallest line of familiar exasperation once again printing between his eyebrows, before focusing on the matter at hand.

"And you're certain it's harmless?" he asks over the top of being ushered, a hand up like he's about to feel at the stuff himself before hesitating, not wishing to do so without knowing any better. Or without a decent pair of gloves. Slughorn taught him better than that.

Back on his feet, at least, and moving then to pick up coat and cane, desiring to leave none of his effects very far away from him, and certainly not his wand. But should he desire to leave swiftly, then the wool of an extra layer and the contents of his pockets are of the few items in the world he has, even if its just the dregs of his money and a tattered pamphlet.