As she spoke, she looked warily toward Elliot-wait, what was he doing?
At some point, Elliot had changed into a sturdy work outfit covered in pockets and was now intently stuffing all sorts of odd things into them: a small hammer, rope, metal hooks of unknown purpose, and even a roll of yellowed waterproof cloth?
Noticing their gazes, Elliot glanced over, then frowned.
"Flora, why are you still wearing a dress? Where's your gun?"
Flora froze. "-Wh-what's wrong with a dress? Wait, what gun?"
The next moment, a huge bag came flying over, and Flora instinctively reached out to catch it.
"Half plate armor, a revolver, a hand pick, a Folding Knife, a shield-that's all I could get for now. Put them on first."
Flora looked at the firearm gleaming coldly inside the bag, then down at her elaborate, exquisite clothes and makeup. Something about this felt wrong.
Elliot had already finished equipping himself. He now wore a lightweight breastplate, with a small round shield on his arm and two pistols tucked at his waist.
He walked over to Flora's bed, and his brow immediately furrowed.
"You're wearing high heels too?!" Elliot tossed a pair of iron-plated boots onto the bed. "Change into these! What if there are nails in the ruins?"
Flora: "-"
She looked at the heavy, rugged iron boots, then at her dusty stockings, and fell silent.
Then Elliot grabbed another equally bulging canvas bag and tossed it onto Vanessa's bed. "Good thing I brought an extra set. Make do with these for now. Remember to bring your own equipment next time!"
Vanessa froze for a moment, then came to her senses, planted her hands on her hips, and raised an eyebrow. "Why should I take orders from you?"
Elliot: "???"
"Take a good look. This is