Mabel spent far too much time sorting through various bits of clothing that were much too practical for a party. She had a nice dress, but it exposed her arms too much. She had this great jacket, but it had creature guts she hadn't quite managed to wash out yet. She finally settles, somewhat nervously, on a pale pink summer dress and a shawl. It didn't hide the scars on her arms or the fading bruises on her neck, but if anybody pointed those out, they weren't worth hanging out with.

(She had drawn a large star on her bandage, if only to cover up what she had drawn there before (http://rlv.zcache.com/operator_symbol_sticker-p217568565303589996qjcl_400.jpg).)

She buys a ticket, for the hell of it, and picks up a soda with reluctance. She wasn't tempting her nightmares with alcohol, as much as she needed a drink.