Jo stares down at herself, trying to think of the last thing she watched with pirates or generally just whatever came to mind of the image. Her pants shrink in, becoming like leggings. Heels shifting toward knee-high boots with folded-over tops. Her shirt goes from white to something more creamy, flowy in the front, a little billow, and she frowns, which tones it down fast. There's a belt, and then her vision is shadowed when a hat appears, but Jo hardly notices it.

Her eyes are glued to the cutlass hanging from the belt crisscrossed at an angle across her hips. Her face lights up a little for the first time as she lets her hand rest testingly on the pommel. "Sick."