Having walked into Tinworth for dual purposes - meeting Azah and securing takeaway from one of the few restaurants that the village had to offer its residents, Sana hadn't done much dressing up. She had spent an overly long time in the bath and in front of the mirror, wondering whether she ought to shave her legs or not. It was one of those Murphy's Law moments of life; shave your legs and no one will be near them to notice, assume that no one would be close enough to notice that you hadn't in two days and your odds of winding up pantsless increased ten fold.
In the end she had shaved them before throwing on jeans and a light sweater, not wanting to be caught out in the event that she might somehow need to remove her jeans, and not wanting to psych herself up for any situations where the chance might arise. It was a date with Azah, and it wasn't anything she should feel unfamiliar with, given that she'd been on many before, but the others were in a past that was graciously described as distant. They both would have changed over the years, Sana with her success in art, Azah with her succession of the restaurant, and the fact that she'd made it clear that this wasn't just a coffee, or an invitation to an event open to the general public didn't mean they were going to pick up right where they'd left off.
Though if they did, Sana couldn't be sent to another continent now, her father's discomfort be damned.
And so, Sana waited on a bench overlooking the bluffs near the end of the tiny high street, near where a storage shed and seawall offered the best cover for the direct comings and goings of the village's magical population. The crack of displaced air prompted her to stand, and the sight of Azah prompted her eyebrows to raise, in order to accommodate her eyes, taking everything in. "Wow," she said. "I am really underdressed."