"I'm not sure how they'll feel about you wearing pants. But I'm not sure either of us really care, do we?" He sat up some. "Though... I seem to remember that there were pants. Just those really flowey kinds of pants that sort of look like a skirt. You could do that, right? And we might not be able to find you shoes that aren't heels that would be acceptable for regular wear, but we could find low heels. Soft shoes that you wouldn't hurt yourself on."
There was something to be said about blending in. That was important, of course. But it was also important to him that she be comfortable and able to take care of herself.
"One thing I can say about this clothing style?" He grinned at Mary. "You couldn't even tell by looking that my guns are strapped on."
The coat hung low enough that the belt and arms were concealed. They sat a good deal higher than he would have liked them to, of course. Johnny never wore his gun belt at actual belt level, they hung off his hips where he could get to them easier. He'd have to have a whole new belt for that, though.
He turned the idea of getting a job through his mind. He didn't want to admit it, but they weren't going to be able to live in the park forever. One night could be chalked up to a picnic accidentally gone nap. More than that, and they'd have people questioning what they were doing.
"I think we do. Have to get jobs." Johnny didn't know how he felt about that, though his face spoke novels of his surface feelings. He'd not had a job since before college. When he'd wanted extra cash in the summer. He'd had a career, yes, but a job? Shit wages and shit hours?