The truth is...she doesn't really give a shit about what he thinks about her outfit. She's been wearing scrubs for weeks on end, and bloodstained clothes before that. She sort of just wants to feel even a little bit normal, no matter how unattainable that is. Which mostly means dressing like a farm girl again.

It's almost funny, how he equates almost dying for entertainment value as hard work. Wait, no it's not. It's actually just infuriating, and it's doing a lot to ruffle her feathers at this hour. Beth doesn't touch the breakfast laid out for her. She stares him down, arms crossed against her chest, chin tipped in stubborn defiance.

"Who are you? I'm not going anywhere until you explain what we're doin'."

She's spent a lot of time being ordered around by fake cops. It gets old.