Not personally, but he knows someone who does

Without a word Raoul turned in a new direction. Taking it as a good sign Rachel followed until he reached an area stuffed with costumes and manned only by an older fifty-something woman who could easily have been a mean librarian. Or a witch, she thought with a shiver.

"What?" the woman snapped, inspecting various clothes that were lying about.

Raoul turned to Rachel, who realized it was up to her. Apparently talking to the woman wasn't in his instructions either.

"Um, hi."

"What do you want?" the woman snapped again.

Rachel added a whip to her image of the woman as a crotchety librarian.

"I, uh, need clothes," she said meekly.

The woman sniffed, looking at her with disgust. "Apparently you haven't noticed, but you're wearing some. I suppose it's a novelty," she finished with a mutter.

Rachel flushed, idly picking at a the rip in the top.

"Um, I need new clothes. These are damaged."

"Strip."

"What?"

The woman sighed. "Always the stupid ones," she muttered to herself, before speaking in the exagerated tone you'd use for the mentally retarded, miming as she went along. "Take.... off.... your.... clothes..."

Rachel flushed red, but in a mere three seconds was naked but for her shoes.

"That's probably as long as it ever takes when a man looks at her," the woman sneered, talking to herself as she picked out what seemed to be random bits of cloth, tossing them into another stack. Her eyes flicked to Rachel and away.