Clad in that old shirt of Richard's, Cara sat cross-legged on the floor with her leathers spread out before her, boots and gloves carefully off to the side.

It had taken hours, hours, to get all the glitter off. The stuff stuck like glue to whatever it touched, it was worse than blood. But, finally. It. Was. All. Off.

A strand of hair fell in front of her face. She glared balefully as it sparkled in the sunlight. All off her leathers, at least. She was going to have serious words with certain furry miscreants next week. Not that they'd listen.

[ooc: closed door, open post, sparkly mord'sith]