The corset wasn't a bad fit under most and over some of her clothes. The fabric small bustle didn't feel all that uncomfortable. The layers of skirting and shirting was only somewhat bothersome, and the shoes fit well enough. The problem wasn't that she was probably wearing too many clothes, or too many layers, but that she didn't understand why she was wearing them. Not at first.
She came to in a store that looked to sale sundries. Honest to goodness sundries. There was even a sign. The glasses on her nose were lower than she normally wore, and her hair felt piled high with more pins than it had right to. The hat up there fit everything else. When she caught a glimpse of herself, she realize she looked the picture of a prim and proper mid to late 19th century librarian, or school marm.
"No, no thank you." She shook her head at the offered bag of who knew what and quickly walked out of the goods store. The saloon was her first choice to look. The people she knew seemed to go there, and she hoped that the people who'd been missing would be there. She had to. She'd never give up hope in seeing them.
Unfortunately, what she got were a few cat calls and more than a few glances. No one she needed to see was there, not yet... She didn't shirk away, nor did she try preaching the sins of drinking, gambling, and whoring. She went straight to the bar and ordered the strongest drink available. One shot. And once it was poured, she downed it, giving a soft cough at the sting of it.