Susan stares, a little hurt. She had been trying, first and foremost, to show some kind of solidarity, to ensure that they were in this together on all fronts. Now she looks down at her damaged sleeve, and suddenly wonders if it was stupid to make that gesture.

"It's just the sleeve. It ain't rags." She clears her throat, picking at the frayed hem self-consciously. "And for the sigul... I ain't sure. Could be they wouldn't care, could be they'd punish us. Guess we won't know unless someone tries it. But they seem to care a good deal what we're wearing."