"Thirty minutes. Okay, we can do this in thirty minutes." Frisk takes a deep breath, their red scarf fluttering in the stale wind. "Let's get--" Wait, scarf? Frisk looks down, and finds that they're dressed in entirely different attire: simple, functional plate mail armor, a tattered green cape, and a red scarf. "Okay, this... this is new." At least it feels like they can still move-- holy shit a sword.

A ruby longsword forms in Frisk's hand, which changes to a floating shield with a gesture. "That's... okay," Frisk says, shaking their head to clear away the confusion. "Alright, whatever. Like Ash said, we need to get a move on, so let's mosey."