"You know," Aunt Peggy tells her, "if you're going to be going out in the evenings, we ought to find you something a little more appropriate than this uniform."

Sharon laughs. "Maybe when we get my clothes for the cover, we can order me a dress," she says, amused. "Until then, this will do."

Peggy squeezes her hand and bids her goodnight, and Sharon makes her way back to her quarters, her mind full of the upcoming mission. Her slacks have dried, but the coffee stains will take some getting out; she spends some time sponging them and the shirt with water and the white vinegar before brushing out her hair, reapplying her lipstick, and heading back out into the night, aiming her steps toward the pub.