It takes a while, but she finally arrives.

You chat with Vanessa for the better part of an hour as you wait for Evellyn - goodness knows what she might be up to after the predicament you put her in - sharing stories, exchanging concepts for pranks, and getting an eyeful of Vanessa’s cleavage, which just seems to grow over the course of the hour.

Vanessa finished up a story about how she once enchanted a snooty noblewoman’s gloves to pull her clothes off in public and rub her down, when you hear fast, heavy footfalls coming in your direction, the telltale sign of Evellyn’s boots marching towards your table. You glance over to see her, wearing an entirely new set of clothes. It is mostly unremarkable - some boots, some pants, a linen shirt - except for the dull halfplate armor strapped to her chest, partially hidden from view underneath a dark green longcoat hanging over the ensemble. She carries a satchel over her shoulder, bulging with what you presume to be the gasbomb containers.

She has the coat’s collar pulled high, her eyes slinking back and forth hoping there’s noone around to recognise her from her most recent shameful outing. She’s wearing a sour expression.

“Ah there she is! You got home safely right? Didn’t catch a cold I hope..!”

Evellyn glares at you with murderous, yet ultimately impotent, intent. “No thanks to you.”

You glance back towards Vanessa to notice her starting to surreptitiously move her fingers in an arcane pattern, smirking.