"Ready," Lisa said, emerging from her room in her least favorite (navy) pantsuit with a backpack and a small rolling luggage. To her own surprise, she wasn't even out of breath, no doubt due to all that dastardly exercise.
"Hmmm." Dr. Weaver examined Lisa critically for a moment, before reaching over and doing something to Lisa's hair.
Lisa looked at her reflection in the toaster and grimaced. "I look like shit."
"You look like an overworked, under-rested analyst," Dr. Weaver replied. "Someone who dresses plainly to avoid drawing attention from male colleagues and, in all likelihood, bosses. Also, nothing like Lilac or Lisa, both of whom are much more vain."
Lisa did not sputter or pout.
"You can redo your makeup in the car," Dr. Weaver observed, packing up her files. "Lose the under-eye concealer, at a minimum."
"I thought we were going by portal?" Lisa replied, trying to keep up.
"We'll portal from the PRT building," the older woman said, calling the elevator. "Give Armsmaster more readings for his project."
Upon arrival, the elevator opened to reveal Aisha. Taking in the pair, the younger girl grinned. "Nice costume, not-Lisa!"
Lisa did not grumble.
Note: Dr. Weaver likely learned this trick uptime from her Lisa, although as applied to uptime!Taylor it would be more like "wear a little black dress, no one will suspect it's you!"