He earns himself a frown directed square at the back of his head for two reasons: One, keeping up with his set pace is near impossible in her current outfit and two, "You didn't even let me finish my joke."

Still, with her fists wound up in the hem of the dress, tugging it to a more suitable hiking height as they close in on the far edges of the city, she supposes it's still not as bad as that god-awful corset from the 1800s. "Seriously I had a good punch line for that and everything."