Liz is dwarfed by the coat, but she isn't about to turn down the offer. She tugs it on -- ignoring the way that the sleeves fall well past her hands -- and pulls it around herself, crossing her arms to hold it in place.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," she says.

It is a good idea, and a necessary one; it's wet and cold as hell in the room.

Of course, that doesn't mean that Liz is particularly looking forward to facing the bar at large, even if logically, no one will know that this was all her. She sets her mouth in a thin, determined line, and heads for the door.