Room 418, Sunday Afternoon

[wrongkindofsith]

It had taken her well, a week, basically, but Cara had finally managed to get every single, solitary speck of glitter off of her leathers. Or rather out of, since it was the glitter on the inside that had been the real problem.

But now that that had been taken care of, she sat cross-legged on the bed, leathers draped over her lap, beeswax and cloth in hand, carefully buffing them to a shine.

[Door cracked. Post open.]