Makeup. It wasn't foreign to Tilmfork, but it wasn't too common, or so sophisticated as what Noa found elsewhere. Someday, she figured, it could make for a quick disguise. Today, it was a different kind of safety precaution.
"Six," she counted in her head, flipping out a makeup mirror, and falling back to the side of the hatch. "Four," she said, adjusting where she held it, getting enough of a view of the way forward with as little of the mirror to show around the corner. At two she was ready.