It's not particularly a scent that Donnie cares for. First chance he gets, one can bet the turtlekin will be scrubbing down.

There's some coughing as he smacks the dust out of a few more larger rags from the storage shed so they can use it to dry their hands, and then he's hauling off the bucket to get it filled, maybe after a quick rinse out. But he tries to make good time about it, and when he comes back he sets the bucket down, drying off with one of the rags as he comes over to resume helping out with the cannons.

"Are they different where you're from?" he asks.