He caught the cloak in the face and with one hand. He was half-tempted to throw it in the muck with the rag of a shirt. Daqiang bundled the cloak up instead of doing that and set it on the chest.

"This venerable one told you to turn around," he replied mildly. The rip of the tattered pants being torn off followed. And then the sound of heavy cloth unfolding and fluttering. The click of metal being pulled into place. And the thump of boots with a proper sole being put to the ground.

He didn't think anything of changing where they were because they were in an alley way and her body - slight as it was - stood between any pedestrians passing by the entrance and himself. She would block the sights of anyone who shouldn't see and he did not take long to dress.

Daqiang picked up the scroll and the sword and the bundled cloak. He walked around to stand in front of her and held the cloak out, "This venerable one is dressed."

And dressed he was in a set of robes of structured teal and grey silk made to be durable, embroidered and beaded in gold. The robes, though the skirts were long, were made to be practical and hung to his ankles. His hair, now styled in the manner he preferred - half up and then straight - hung nearly four feet down, ending just past his hips at the top of his thighs.

He stood less stiffly. Finally comfortable now that he was properly dressed.