Morning came after a dreamless sleep for Erica as she opened her eyes. She saw her coat crumpled in the corner as she reluctantly sat up, reminded of yesterday's disaster. Groaning as she felt her spirits sink, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and felt the cold stone on her bare feet. She decided that wallowing in what happened wasn't going to serve her, so she took a deep breath, then another, before getting up and pulling fresh clothes from the dresser. Leaving her coat behind, she opened the door and made her way to the communal building's bathroom. She took a quick shower and shaped herself dry afterward. It took some doing since she hadn't been shaping yet today outside of puppeting her arm, but the exercise helped wake her fully. Once dressed, she stepped outside, surprised to smell something cooking nearby. She followed her nose to the kitchen, where she found Damon heating eggs and some kind of meat on the stove.

He glanced her way as she shut the door behind her, "Good morning. Are... you feeling any better?"

"I'm not going to keep crying over it, if that's what you mean," Erica sighed, "I'm not going to get over it anytime soon either, but I can't wallow in sadness or despair."

"I see. Are you hungry? I was preparing eggs and ham, and I'm pretty sure we have canned bread here somewhere too, but I haven't found it yet."

A small smile crossed Erica's face, "That's thoughtful of you. Yes, I would love to have some breakfast."

"I didn't know what I could do to help yesterday, but I figured I could at least help you start the day today with some food."

"... You made some for yourself too, right?"

Damon gave a chuckle, "I knew you'd ask that. Yes, I'll be eating with you."

"Good. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I've ever seen you eat before."

"Guess this will be the first time, then. Oh, blast..." Damon muttered as he scrambled to rescue the now burning ham and eggs. 

Erica watched as he began to tear the kitchen apart looking for the bread. After a couple of minutes with no success, she suggested, "Maybe we should eat what you made before it gets too cold?"

Damon sighed, "You're right, I suppose."

He plated the mildly burnt rations and gave Erica her portion before sitting down across from her. They tucked in, the char being notable but not totally ruining the meal.

"You're not used to cooking then?" Erica commented between bites.

"No. My apologies, I rarely take the time to eat, let alone cook, even as rudimentary as this was."

"I still don't understand you. You barely eat, you barely sleep, and you can't be harmed. Must be handy to be able to do all that."

"I told you before, my needs are different from everyone else's. There will be a time when I'm forced to rest, but that isn't now."

"Forced to rest?" Erica asked, having finished her food.

Damon still had a couple bites left. He didn't speak again until they were finished, "Anyways, we have today as downtime before the Iron Ball tomorrow. You're free to do what you wish until then."

Erica pouted slightly. She then had a thought, "I have nothing to wear to a formal dance like that. What about you?"

Damon looked at her, confused. He tugged on the chest of his coat, "Does this not count as formal wear?"

Erica buried her face in her hands, replying, "No, the coats don't count! You need something sharper, something less military. And I need a dress or a gown or something, I don't know, I've never been to something this posh or official!"

"So... we need to procure formal wear for tomorrow then?"

"We need clothes, shoes, scents, I will also need makeup! Gods- no, Mortemhiem knows I hate wearing the stuff, but I'll look like a bumpkin if I go without any."

"I'll make a requisition request of the local merchants," Damon lifted his matrix maigum to his mouth to issue the order.

"We can't do that! There are too many factors to consider to simply order it all in. The pieces need to match, in addition to fit. I know you have our measurements to give them, but that doesn't stop them from making mistakes. No, we need to go to a tailor's and get fitted for clothing for the ball."

Damon thought for a moment, "Won't a service like that need to be paid for?"

"Does the Altean Army not have any money?" Erica asked, a level of desperation overtaking her.

"I doubt I can get enough stellars together to pay for that in the time we have."

"You said you were going to requisition the clothes, how would you have paid for that?"

"Some merchants are willing to provide aid and supplies to us, either as thanks for our work or, much more commonly, because the local government will compensate them as part of their agreements with the Altean Army. With the Iron Council's uncooperative nature, I doubt we can arrange for them to cover any costs."

"Ugh, great... Well, we have to try, at least. I doubt we'd be let into the ball dressed like we normally do. Can you get whatever money is here together and bring it with us? We should also leave the coats behind, going around advertising we're the Altean Army in a city that isn't too fond of us isn't a good idea if we're looking for charity."

Damon hesitated, "You want me to go shopping in a vest?"

"What?!"

"I don't keep much clothing to hand besides what you see me wear. I have an altanite vest I wear under the coat to remain somewhat modest if the coat gets destroyed, but that's it for torso wear."

"You're kidding..." Erica looked at him, sizing him up, "I may have a solution, though it might look a little ridiculous."

The two Altean generals set out from the base after a few more minutes, Erica in her usual long sleeved blue shirt, and Damon in a very tight maroon button-up short sleeved shirt. They had pocketed their matrix maigums to help avoid standing out and were walking down the sidewalk, looking for any businesses that might have what they were looking for.

"This is rather uncomfortable," Damon complained, tugging at the collar of his shirt while keeping his voice low so that only Erica could hear as they went about their search.

"All we had were my clothes to work with, so I had to stuff you in something that had at least a chance of fitting you. Honestly, I'm surprised you're fitting in that thing at all," Erica murmured back.

"I still don't see why we have to go about our business like this."

"Normal people either get scared or starstruck when you're around, neither of which will be super helpful if we're looking for their help. So as a former normal person, let me do the talking so that we don't tip our hand too early."

"I'm your commander, why am I going along with this..."

"Because you know I'm right. You have the stellars?"

"Yes, all one thousand, seven hundred and three of them," Damon said, exasperated.

"Well, we'll have to see if that gets us anywhere. Hey, I think this is a shoemaker up ahead."

The two of them turned into the shop Erica noted and found it to indeed be a shoemaker's. Shelves and tables were covered in all manner of shoes, neatly organized by style and size. The proprietor, a wiry older man with an impressive mustache, turned from his work as the bell above the door rang with their entry.

"Welcome," the proprietor said with a bit of a rasp, "how can I help you?"

"Hello, we're looking for some formal footwear," Erica said pleasantly.

"Hmph. Well, what I have is all on display, so take a look around." He turned back to working on a new shoe.

"Thank you," Erica walked over to the women's shoes, finding the formal wear easily enough. There were mostly heels of varying heights, but she had no interest in trying to learn how to walk in those for the deadline they had. She did find a pair of white flat heeled, pointed toe shoes in her size, but was halted by the price tag. Two thousand, two hundred stellar for these? While nice, these were fairly simple shoes, did that really warrant this price tag?

Damon peered over her shoulder and shook his head, "We don't have enough by far, we'll have to use the Altean name to get anywhere with this search."

"Let's see what's available for you, then." Erica found the men's dress shoes and was sticker shocked again, though not as badly. One thousand, nine hundred and fifty for ones Damon claimed were in his size.

"And you said this would be the less expensive of the formal wear?" Damon muttered.

Erica steeled herself, not knowing exactly how to leverage the Altean name to try and get what they needed. She turned back to the proprietor, "Excuse me?"

Without turning from his work, he replied with a simple, "Yes?"

"Well, you see..." She decided just to come out and say it, "We're... with the Altean Army, and need shoes for the Iron Ball tomorrow."

The older man's hands stopped what they were doing. He turned to leer at Damon and Erica, "Let me guess, you can't pay?"

"... No," Erica said sheepishly, "We were hoping we could arrange a requisition with the Iron Council, but that would take time we don't have."

"The Iron Council? Your kind would have better luck finding a dragon's tail than to get them to pay for anything like this. I can't give you shoes now on the promise of payment later that isn't going to come. I'm sorry, but you'll have to find some other fool who will take you up on your 'arrangement,'" he turned back to his work, "Good day."

Damon made to say something, but Erica put a hand on his arm, "We aren't going to get anywhere here."

Damon looked at her hand before nodding. The two of them left the shop feeling somewhat defeated. Damon asked, "What now?"

Erica locked her fingers together and placed them behind her head, "We try again, it's not like we're gonna come into the thousands of stellars we'll need otherwise anytime soon."

"Can we get anything with what we have?"

"Maybe a cologne for you, or a perfume or middle of the line makeup kit for me, but we'll worry about those after we secure our formal wear," Erica said, willing that they'd be able to get what they needed somehow.

The next half dozen shops they checked also didn't accept Altean requisitions for their wares. One tailor even chased them out, cursing the Altean Army for causing the Diezen menace. Erica didn't believe it, but the tailor did, and so they quickly took their leave of that shop. The others turned the two of them down with varying degrees of politeness.

Now thoroughly discouraged, Damon and Erica come across another tailor. Erica noted that the building appeared to be made of a dark lacquered wood instead of stone, an oddity for the district. A window next to the door displayed suits and dresses exactly like what they were looking for. Going inside, Erica noticed the scent of fresh cut wood mixing with that of the clothes. Midway through the building was the checkout counter, behind which a smartly dressed bespectacled old man with silver hair sat, jotting something down on a sheet of paper. And old woman, roughly the same age as the man, was wearing a much more humble dress as she was fussing over one of the displays on the wall. 

"Welcome to Ozlowe's," the man said without looking up, "What brings you in today?"

Erica tentatively said, "Hello, we would like some formal wear for the upcoming ball."

"You're in the right place then, ma'am," man turned his gaze their way, "What did you- wait, is that...?"

"What is it, dear?" The woman turned to see what her husband was talking about and let out a small gasp.

"That's- to say, you're Damon Arbiter, aren't you?" The man squinted as he adjusted his glasses.

"I am," Damon announced.

"My word," the man stepped out from behind the counter and approached them, "You're a bit harder to recognize without your coat, but I could never forget your face. Though, forgive my saying so, but you look rather daft wearing that."

"It was her idea," Damon nodded towards Erica, "But why would you never forget my face?"

"Your Altean Army has done a great service to the world, and to our family," the wife explained, "On multiple occasions, you've saved our children and grandchildren from Diezen attacks and even stopped a sawt rampage a few months back that could have cost us our youngest son. We can't thank you enough for what you've done!"

"We follow your exploits closely through the news," the man continued, "Watersteel must have been difficult for you, but you helped those you could. But, you didn't come here to have this old coot sing your praises. You said you needed formal wear?"

"That's right," Erica said, elated that they were finally getting somewhere.

"Just the two of you then? No Joshua? And I'm not sure I know who you are, Miss."

"Don't be silly, dear," the woman said, brushing a lock of grey hair out of her face, "That must be Erica Blaine, from the reports on Watersteel. She's the newest living member of the Altean Army."

"Ah, yes. Well, we'll get the two of you sorted in good time," the man looked Damon and Erica over, "I'm guessing you don't want people to know you're here, not wearing the distinctive coats? We'll keep it quiet you're here, don't you worry."

"I'll put in a requisition with the Iron Council to compensate you for your wares and work, Mister...?" Damon asked.

"Ozlowe, Mister Arbiter, but everyone just calls me Oz," the man replied, "Forget the requisition crap, the Council would sooner eat their boots than give your organization anything past the bare minimum they've already agreed to, the fools. I know you must not have enough money to pay for this, so it's on the house as thanks for your service."

"Are... you sure?" Erica asked, "These clothes must be expensive."

"The Altean Army has saved us from plenty of heartbreak in its time, as the Ozlowe family is rather large and widespread," the woman said, "Think nothing of it. Now, which of you do we measure first?"

Damon pointed at Erica, "She can go first, I'd like to look around a bit before I am measured."

Erica shot him a look. She hadn't done anything like this before, and he was pushing her ahead?

The woman smiled knowingly, "One of you has to be first, so Miss Blaine, if you would be so kind as to follow me to the back?"

Erica obliged and followed the old woman to the secluded back room of the shop, who pulled a privacy screen shut behind them. The room had mirrors on each side, it seemed this was as much a dressing room as a fitting room. 

"Alright, dearie, if you could raise your arms straight out, yes just like that," the woman got to work with a measuring tape, taking all manner of measurements, "My name is Madeline, by the way. It's so very nice to meet you!"

"It's nice to meet you, too," Erica smiled to herself, "Thank you for doing this for us. I wasn't sure we'd be able to find anything in time."

"You've done a lot for our family, so it's the least we could do to help you in turn."

"I haven't been with the Army for long, so I haven't done much..."

"Perhaps not yet, but I'm sure you're destined to do great things if Mister Arbiter decided you were worthy of joining. How has it- oh, what's this?" Madeline paused as she was trying to measure Erica's right arm, noticing that there was metal where she expected flesh.

Erica pulled her arms in, "This... is a replacement for the arm I lost shortly before joining the Altean Army. I've been worried about how it would look in formal wear, and wondered if I'd be able to hide it somewhat."

Madeline looked at Erica, noticing the scar on her cheek as well, "Oh, I'm sorry dear, you've been through a lot, haven't you?"

Erica said nothing.

"...May I see it? The hand looks well made, I can see what I can do if I know what I'm working with."

After a moment's deliberation, Erica rolled up her sleeve past the prosthetic's elbow and held her arm out. Madeline looked over the arm, absorbing the detail of the filigree etchings in the arm's exterior plating, turning the hand over and examining the segments that allowed it movement like the original it replaced. She marveled at it the whole time she poured over it.

"This is some truly masterful work. I can tell by the metal used that Damon must have made this, yes?" Madeline asked.

"He did. He worked tirelessly to get it completed quickly," Erica replied.

"He must value you quite a bit to have done that, let alone accept you into his ranks. While I've not lost a limb, a prosthetic like the one you have should be something to be proud of, I'd think. A masterwork to enable your day-to-day."

"It's also a reminder that I'm not who I was anymore..."

"Perhaps, but it can also be a symbol for the you you have yet to become: a guardian, a protector, a blade against the dark. It'd be a shame to hide that symbol at the Iron Ball. Besides, we don't have many sleeved gowns in stock, so it would be a rush job to come up with something if you really wanted to cover it as best you could," Madeline said.

Erica regarded her exposed prosthetic, gently bringing it in front of her from Madeline's attentions. She would never get the original arm back, that part of her was gone. But this prosthetic, this altanite alloy construct, it was a part of her now, with all of its angled panels and rounded edges. The filigree designs etched into it, as faint as they were, were her additions, a different piece of her on the prosthetic's exterior.

"I'd not thought of it like that before," Erica said after a short while, "I think you're right, I'd like something with a colour that accentuates the arm, and without sleeves."

Madeline nodded, "Let me finish your measurements, and then we can go over available colours and styles." 

Once the measurements were all taken and recorded, Madeline brought in a few gowns, letting Erica look them over. Dark green, slate grey, sky blue, frilly, understated, lavish, there was a wide variety in the handful of examples put before her. One in particular caught her eye, though. It was one of the simpler gowns, higher cut on the chest and off the shoulders, it was more modest than the other gowns. However, it still drew her eye with its striking crimson colour. Accented with black lace, it felt... right.

"What about this one?" Erica asked, standing in front of the gown that held her attention.

"That one? I wasn't sure there was a point to bringing it in, as we've had it sitting around for ages with no buyers. It was never a popular design, especially in Durhelm, so it's surprising that this is your first choice," Madeline mused.

"I'm more comfortable in a uniform than a dress, so I don't really know what I'm doing, but I like this one. The colour will help the arm remain distinct, and I like that it isn't cleavage central. Do you have any other ones similar to this that I could look at?"

Madeline shook her head, "We went out on a limb stocking that one, and when it didn't move we avoided getting any more that were anything like it."

"I see," Erica ran her left hand down the gown, feeling the satin finish, "Can I try this on?"

"Certainly!" Madeline double checked the privacy screen was closed before nodding for Erica to begin changing. The older woman said nothing as Erica undressed, revealing her prosthetic in full. Madeline said, "The upper arm is rather thin, isn't it? Skeletal, even."

"Damon said it was something about balancing out the weight so it wouldn't be too heavy on one side," Erica replied. She folded her clothing as she removed it and set it aside. Madeline then helped her into the gown, fastening the back of it after it was on. Erica regarded herself in the mirrors, almost not recognizing herself in such attire, "This is... different."

"It isn't a perfect fit at the moment, but I can already see what adjustments would have to be made to fit your physique. You would need to do something with your hair and have some fitting shoes, but I dare say this looks good on you. Would you like to try on a set of gloves to go with it?"

"Sure, but I think I'll only try on the left. Something tells me the prosthetic isn't shaped right for anything that goes past the wrist."

Madeline handed Erica a long black satin glove. She pulled it onto her left arm, where it went up past her elbow. She moved her arm around, getting different angles on the glove.

"I'm not sure about the glove," Erica said, pulling it off and handing it back to Madeline, "but I feel confident about the gown."

"I'll set it aside then, but you should try on some of the others to see if they suit you better," Madeline said before helping Erica change again. 

Erica tried on each of the other gowns that Madeline brought in, but none of them left an impression on her like the crimson one with black lace. Deciding that was the one to settle on, she began pulling on her own clothes. "We haven't taken too long, have we?"

"I don't think so," Madeline answered, "Even if we did, a lady needs to look her best for these occasions, so picking out the right outfit is of prime importance. Mister Arbiter can wait a bit, I'm sure."

Fully dressed, Erica and Madeline exited the fitting room. They found Damon and Oz going over several suits, the Altean general looking completely lost while the proprietor was clearly trying to impart wisdom on him.

Oz noticed their return, "Ah, have you ladies settled on a gown?"

"We have," Madeline said, "and she picked out our dark horse, of all things!"

"Did she now? That's interesting. Now, come along, Mister Arbiter, it's your turn." Oz ushered Damon into the back, closing the privacy screen behind them.

Erica turned to Madeline, "Thank you again for what you're doing for us, I know it's an immense favour."

Madeline waved her off, "I already told you not to worry about it! Besides, you still have to get some other things. The two of you need shoes, and you need some makeup, yes?"

"Yes, we might be able to pick up some makeup, but shoes have proven to be too much for us to afford with the stellars we have on hand," Erica said sheepishly.

"I'm sure you can put your stellars to better use. Wait here," Madeline walked towards the back of the store, opening a door next to the fitting room and disappearing behind it. After a few minutes, she came back, holding a thin box sealed with a green ribbon. "This was a gift from last year, but I hardly ever use my other stuff, so this makeup kit is untouched. I'd like for you to have it, Miss Blaine."

"Are you sure?" Erica hesitated, but accepted the kit from Madeline, "This is a big help. Are you sure you don't want anything for it?"

"No, and no more offering to pay for anything! This is on the house, and that's that."

Erica smiled to herself, saying, "It's nice to be appreciated."

Madeline frowned slightly, "Unfortunately, don't get used to it, especially if dealing with the Iron Council or Durhelm at large. Plenty in the city believe it to be impervious and that the Altean Army is trying to throw their weight around stationing themselves here. I don't understand it, but that's the way it is here."

"Just means I have to savour it while I can, then."

Madeline smiled and nodded. As they waited for Damon to be measured and to pick out some formal wear, Erica ambled around the store, admiring the outfits on display, Madeline pointing out various details about them as she went from one to the next.

Damon emerged from the fitting room, moving his arms around, trying to get Erica's too small shirt to be less restrictive. Oz had a slate grey suit folded and draped over his arm as he went to the counter.

"That took you a while," Madeline noted.

Oz sighed, "The man hasn't a fashionable bone in his body, so it took a lot of questions and my own opinions to get him to settle on anything. But, we got there in the end. Now, both of your outfits require tailoring before they're ready for you, so it will be some time before they can go home with you."

"Will they be ready for the Iron Ball tomorrow?" Damon asked.

"They'll be ready later today, so don't you worry. But, it will still be a few hours. I'm sure the two of you have seen enough suits and gowns for today, so find some other shops to poke around in. At the very least it would be more interesting than having you hover around in here." Oz started shuffling through the notes that were spread out across the counter.

"Dear," Madeline said, "they still need shoes. Should we send them to Amanda's? I'm sure that if they mention that we sent them, she'd be willing to get them set up with new shoes. If nothing else, we could cover any costs she wouldn't."

Oz nodded, "That sounds like a good idea. Have you two been to the shoemaker's three blocks down, one block to the left?"

Erica and Damon shook their heads.

"Well, head over there. The owner and operator of that shop is Amanda, our eldest daughter. Tell her who you are and that we sent you and you should be able to get what you need. If she gets antsy about cost, tell her that we'll cover whatever you pick up. I'll try calling her first so she knows you're coming, but she keeps busy and doesn't always pick up."

"That's very generous of you, on top of what you're already doing," Damon said, "We shan't soon forget the help."

"Nor will we forget what you've done for us," Madeline said, "but you should get going, we need to get started on your clothes."

Damon and Erica exited Ozlowe's, heading toward Amanda's shop.

"So, how was picking out your outfit?" Erica asked as they walked.

"Difficult. I keep my clothing very similar to make it simpler to wear," Damon grimaced, "Too much choice, too many variables."

"I see. What made you settle on grey?"

"Oz said it matched my eyes, and that it was a neutral colour. I have some other colour in the ensemble, but you'll see that later. What about you? That crimson gown is rather striking."

"I'm not sure, it just... spoke to me. It felt right, I guess? That, and I didn't really like the other options they had."

"Hmm. I also see you have something else they gave you?" Damon pointed to the thin box with the green ribbon.

"Yes, Madeline gave me an unused makeup kit, so that's another thing we won't have to worry about."

"They've really saved us with their generosity. I feel like we should at least give them a token of our appreciation."

Erica thought for a moment, "They won't want anything lavish, they've vehemently refused repayment. I think some flowers might be a nice thing to give them, nothing overstated and should be affordable for us."

Damon nodded, "I'll keep that in mind."

It was early afternoon when they reached Amanda's store. The sign above the door to the typical stone structure read, "Fanciful Footwear - Shoes for Any Occasion". Entering the shop, they found it very similar to the other shoemakers' they'd been in earlier. There were more utilitarian shoes and boot here, but there was still a sizeable selection of formal footwear. A redheaded woman, roughly Erica's age wearing a leather smock over a simple white shirt, was collecting payment from a customer, a kroll in farmer's clothing.

"Thank you, have a nice day!" The woman said in a bubbly voice. As the kroll waddled past Damon and Erica, she noticed them and said, "Welcome, how may I help you today?"

Ensuring no one else was in the shop, Damon stepped forth, "We're here on Ozlowe's recommendation, they said they'd give you a call?"

"Oh, was that what that ringing was? I was busy helping a customer and couldn't get to it in time. So, you know who I am then, but who are you?" Amanda set her hands on her hips.

"We're from the Altean Army, and we are interested in some formal footwear. Mister Ozlowe said that if we mentioned that he sent us, you'd be able to help us."

"Of course! What were you looking for more specifically?"

"There's the matter of payment," Erica brought up reluctantly, "The Altean Army doesn't have much in the way of cash, so Oz and Madeline offered to cover the costs."

"Huh. So you want free stuff? Bringing my parents into the story is a new one, but I'm going to have to verify this with them. You mind if I make a call?"

"Go ahead," Damon said, folding his arms. Erica couldn't help but notice how toned his arms were through the tight shirt he was forced into as Amanda pulled a phone from under the counter and made a call. After a brief exchange, she hung up.

"My apologies, Mister Arbiter and Miss Blaine. Your story checks out. I had to make sure though; a big city like this, you get all kinds of people coming through that door, and unfortunately some of them want to swindle or steal."

"That's understandable, if unfortunate," Damon said.

"So you'll help us out?" Erica asked.

"Sure, you've helped the family plenty the past couple of years, I can handle parting with two pairs of shoes as thanks."

"Thank you," Damon said, "Could we get some help finding something? Neither of us are well versed in shopping for these things."

"Yeah, I heard about that too," Amanda chuckled, "I also know what kinds of outfits you're trying to pair these with, so I can help out."

The next hour was spent looking at the various shoes on display. Damon seemed unsure of anything that wasn't a combat boot, while Erica was adamant about avoiding heels. She wound up finding a pair of shiny black flats that had straps going up just under her knees within twenty minutes. The next forty were trying to help Damon make any decision on what he wanted. Amanda had several options, but that only seemed to complicate things as he was stuck trying to weigh up which he preferred. After a push by Erica, he settled on black dress shoes.

"Simple and elegant, hard to go wrong with those," Amanda said after Damon made his choice, "Let me bag those for you and you should be good to go!"

"Thank you so much," Erica said, handing her new shoes over to Amanda. Damon did the same.

"Hey, no problem. I don't keep as close an eye on your exploits as my folks, but I know you're good people. I mean, those of you who are people and not mechans," Amanda tucked the shoes into two sturdy paper bags, handing them their pairs back, "There, have a nice day!"

"Thank you," Damon bowed his head slightly before turning and leaving. As Erica went to do the same, she felt a tug on her sleeve.

Turning around, she saw it was Amanda. Erica asked, "Um, yes?"

Amanda then wrapped her arms around Erica. She was surprised into silence for a moment, holding her arms out awkwardly. Amanda then said, "You must have been through so much since joining the Altean Army. I can't even begin to imagine it, but you've pushed through. You're strong, but you're not alone. There are people who are truly grateful to you, so I'm going to thank you on their behalf. If you need someone to talk to, you can come to me, okay?"

Suddenly confronted with a flurry of visions of the past, Erica started to tear up as they started to overwhelm her. She reciprocated the hug, careful not to apply too much pressure with her prosthetic, saying, "I didn't know I needed to hear that, thank you."

They released each other, Amanda holding Erica's shoulders at arm's length. She offered, "If you need anything else, just let me know, yeah? If it's reasonable, I'll do what I can."

"Actually," Erica said, wiping her eyes dry with her left sleeve, "I'm not sure I know how to do my hair up or do makeup for an event like the Iron Ball. Could you help me with that?"

"Sure, I can swing by your base before you head over to the ball," Amanda looked past Erica and got a mischievous grin, "Though I'd better let you go for now, your commanding officer doesn't look too happy right now."

Turning around, Erica saw Damon at the door, looking their way with a severe expression. Erica waved Amanda good-bye and left the store with Damon.

"Are you okay? What was that?" Damon asked, eyes boring into Erica.

"You still don't recognize a hug?" Erica said with a chuckle.

He seemed taken aback by that. "I know that's what it was, but I don't know why, and I do know that you were tearing up, too."

"She just told me something I needed to hear, is all. It did bring about tears, but I'd rather have heard what she said and tear up than not have heard it at all."

"... I see," Damon visibly relaxed a little, "There's still a lot I don't know about people."

"You'll get the hang of it. Now come on!" Erica ran ahead a few paces before turning back to Damon, "We've got some time to kill for once, so let's go explore some of the other shops until it's time to get our clothes from Ozlowe's!"

They spent the next few hours window shopping in all kinds of stores, making actual purchases to get a flowery perfume and a cologne for the ball. They grabbed dinner at a restaurant at Erica's insistence before returning to Ozlowe's and collecting their formal wear. After another round of thanks, they returned to the base, Erica feeling much better about the upcoming Iron Ball than before.