When you were born a "weirdo" in a family of "weirdos" it wasn't just your own "weirdness" you came by more easily than others. Jo didn't remember where she had learned about the different types of blood, angelic, demonic and fae, but she had, and she felt like it was a given bit of knowledge these days. The way her fae-blooded savior said the word foxy made Jo laugh, as she nodded. She narrowed her eyes in expectation as he seemed to try to recognize her scent, and then there was another smile when he got it right. "Right on!" She took his hand, shaking it cheerfully. "Jo. Nice to meet you, despite the, um, circumstances." Jo rolled her eyes.
Jo paid attention to what Marco said about her skirt, and waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, no worries, can't be worse than being in my underwear." She shrugged. Then, Jo looked down as the skirt seemed to materialize around her waist and down her legs. It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. "Oh my God!" Jo had a face of abject horror, at least until she remembered she should just be thankful there was any kind of skirt on her person at the moment. "I mean, uh...you know. Part of me would rather be naked right now, but, you know, thanks." She clapped him on the shoulder, inwardly praying that no one she knew saw her walking around with that thing on.