On a bench outside a coffee shop
She was pretty certain that she would never admit that she'd spent the first few minutes running hands along her sides and over the curve of her stomach. She was soft in a way that was strange under her hands (though, thank god, not as strange as it would've been if she'd been a guy). She'd slipped into a bathroom and just stared into the mirror, light touches running over skin and through hair, pressing into the way flesh gave under her fingertips. The face that stared back at her was sweet, like someone that might not like her most of the time, but who might try. The sweetness also held sadness in the space around her eyes, and she wondered what sort of sadness it was. But she knew how to carry sadness, even if it was different. She was nearly positive that this face didn't know the same sort of sadness she did. And that she didn't know what sort belonged to the pretty blonde in the mirror.
She didn't know what the fuck was going on at all, and it was almost too weird to deal with.
Eventually she left the bathroom with a quick hope that whatever was going to happen wouldn't end up as weird as the last thing that the hotel had thrown at them. Because that had to be what this was.
It was strange to wander through the mall with no one paying much attention to her. She did her best to get attention most of the time, but the sweet face didn't earn the same sort of sideways glances. Or maybe that was another gift from the hotel, letting them pass by mostly unnoticed. Either way, it was something that made her feel like she was normal, when she'd never felt normal before in her life. It was a seductive sort of feeling.
That desire to be normal kept her from the strange shops, the ones that weren't among the usual offerings of a mall, and instead sat her outside of one of the coffee shops, iced chai latte in hand and a bagged cookie waiting on the bench next to her.