There's a formal affair, and the last thing Jo feels is formally inclined. All the last ones, there'd been some point. She'd wanted Dean notice, and he had. And Dean is. Jo pockets most of her allowance, saying she still wanted pants and something she could fight in.

Jo should have known she'd come back to end up being handed something fancier than she's feeling. But it's a gala, one of the shopkeepers she's known in passing for months, and she's not in the mood to be labor at the point when it will involve explaining things she won't. The shoulder armor is a weird touch, but there's some appreciation for the effort, the acknowledgment of her job, and she does wonder if the parts over her knees would make someone keel over longer if she kneed someone with it.

She spends some time at her assigned seat, but most of it roaming, taking in the performances, drink after drink (after drink) in hand. The eagle-eyed might have spotted the one dessert she picked up, took a few bites off, and then tossed.


Day After;

Jo stays around to help clean up after the Gala. After helping at the hospital in Nocwich and Cadens, it seems as well a thing as anything else and not all that troublesome. Even for all she drank last night, it doesn't look like she's nursing much of a hangover.