Valkyrie didn't give into awkward often. She had no use for it; it served no purpose. But, she felt awkward coming into a place of drink in an outfit that was only slightly hers because she'd found it in a wardrobe in a blue box that defied certain maths and physics. The box actually exemplified other theories. She didn't go to Doctor Thirteen for the clothes borrow to impress, so much as find something that wasn't cobbled together from what she had that wasn't ruined for some reason or other. She really did have to go clothes hunting.
The style was 40s. Pants, blouse, shoes. It had been grouped together, so she went with it. Her hair'd decided to curl; it'd been long or bound up in such a way so long that she'd forgotten the curls and the bounce. She hadn't bothered with that since she was younger, much much younger. This was strange. Vegas had been easy; it was an adventure to somewhere else, and there had been fighting. This was different.
She rolled her eyes at herself and walked in. This would be a different sort of adventure. At least she'd get to drink, which she'd been avoiding for some time. She just hoped she hadn't become a light weight in the interim.
"Hello," she smiled in return. "I am still new enough to claim that I haven't been everywhere in town." She paused noticing Carol, giving the other woman a slight nod.
"What are drinking?" She settled on a stool beside Ben.