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A woman was washing her smallclothes in Fishfoot’s fountain and hanging them off his trident to dry.

“That may be so, Your Radiance,” said Ezzara, “but this blood was mingled with his stool. It stained his smallclothes.”

By the time the storm broke, evening was upon them and Tyrion Lannister was soaked through to the smallclothes, yet somehow he felt elated... and even more so later, when he found a drunken Jorah Mormont in a pool of vomit in their cabin.

He did not trouble himself with smallclothes.

She found her smallclothes in a pile, sniffed at them to make sure they were fresh enough to wear, donned them in her darkness.