Anne takes the handful of paper, studying it with mild disapproval. She and Jack had grown used to the frankly absurd way this place abuses paper very quickly, all those so-called napkins that came with their food and so on. But she's still not used to it. She nods at the instruction, though, and looks up to examine the shirts. They're not like anything she's worn, but they're not bad, not too unfamiliar.

"Yeah," she says quietly and with another nod, both to Greta's offer to leave and the uncertain sorting-out of her shirt. She doesn't quite look at Greta, keeping her eyes on the paper 'towels,' and waits until the door is shut once again.

She slips her shirt off carefully and looks it over before draping it over the toilet, careful to keep the bloodied side from touching anything. She takes her time using the paper to clean, wiping down her coat and hat and whatever else has taken a bit of spatter. She throws them in the little bit by the sink and just stares at it for a while, needing a moment to take in how strange all of this really is, before she chooses one of Greta's shirts and pulls it on.

It fits rather well, just a little too large in some places, but it's not bad. Anne studies herself in the mirror a bit longer before she dons her hat and coat again, which helps her look a bit more like herself. All this done, she opens the door again.

"Ready," she says to the empty hall, expecting Greta is near enough to hear.