She's right. Of course she's right. Regan takes a breath and nods, and resists the urge to dump the armload she currently has. Neither of them are right, but she can at least look for a similar color and not be a dick and leave expensive dresses on the floor of the store. Instead, she brings them back to the rack and places them back on the bar they hang from, then takes another deep breath.

She can do this. If she can trek her way across half of New York, use her implant to weak one of the creatures, and then stab it in the face... Well, then she can buy a damn dress, right?

It's just prom. It's just the most important dance of her high school career. But she can do this.