The seamstress whisks away the clothing Abby hands her, with Julie handing her the rest of what got picked out as she goes. There's a muffled din from the back of the shop as other magically-enhanced machines start up to handle the immediate alterations, for the outfit Abby was fitted into. The others will be sent by delivery boy to the inn.

As they wait for the clothes to come back, Julie drifts to one side and grabs a white chemise for Abby to sleep in. "You can get a latte," she says casually. "Coffee and milk, we got. It's all the way fancier Starbucks shit that they ain't invented yet. Promise, you'll survive the lack of full-blown baristas. Anyway, you're from America. You pretty much already lived in a military police state, you just didn't know it 'cause you were used to it. Land of the free, my ass."

She wanders back to her seat as the newly altered outfit is delivered back to Abby behind the screen. "Coulda been worse than the barracks. I got thrown in a dungeon when I was summoned. Almost two months down there 'fore we got out. 'Sides, you ain't stayin' in the barracks. Stop whinin'."

There's no animosity or bite to her voice. It's said matter-of-factly, with the air of someone who's making a mountain out of a molehill.

"Meet me at the front counter, we'll head out." Julie goes to the front to pay, pulling a beaded coin purse from the bag hanging on her wrist. Several gold coins are plunked on the counter and traded for a shopping bag containing items that don't need hems or seams taken in.