Joss tries to not obviously roll her eyes as her father continues to scold her. She hated these things anyway, but as part of one of the founding familes, and the Mayor's daughter to boot, she didn't have a choice.
"-once you could at the very least pretend like you care," he snaps. "For God's sake, Jocelyn, would it kill you to wear a dress for once?"
Joss looks down at her shirt, fitted waistcoat and dress trousers. "I mean, why would I take the chance when I look fine like this?" (Plus she has pockets, in which she has concealed the hipflask filled with pilfered liquor.)
"Don't talk back, young lady," his voice has lowered dangerously.
Her back tightens. "I wouldn't dare, sir," she responds glibly. "Shall I go mingle?"
He grabs her arm, his grip far tighter than it looks. "Do not embarrass me," he orders.
"Yes sir," she says, and steps back, pulling her arm free, and heading, in fact, for outside.