The moment the phone conversation was done, she went into panic mode. She wasn't exactly sloppy, per se. Not the 'lose a plate under the old newspapers' - just...untidy when it came to papers and blankets and things.

And so she set about the tidying with absolute speed, straightening or, well, better hiding it at least. At least the kitchen and bathroom were immaculate - the former because she made meals like marshaling yards organized military campaigns, and the latter because, well, the whole indoor plumbing and running water thing was still a bit of a miracle to her.

Once that was done, of course, she could concentrate on not wearing a hoodie and leggings, both also quasi-miracles on this planet. It was...well. Angela was...beyond impressive. She had tremendous respect for her skills, and for what she represented - but above all who she was.

You didn't greet that in a hoodie.

What she chose was perhaps not much better, but Earth fashion was something she only was beginning to understand. A fresh blouse, pants and suspenders. She liked it. It was comfortable but chic. That it was also something Garbo would have worn was entirely beyond her knowledge. Hard to leap up centuries all at once, really.

Tempting though it was to greet her in full armor and see what came of that.