On the scale of stupid ideas, this is at least an eleven.
Sam knew this going into the armory. Sam knew this going up to that shiny breastplate, sized and fitted for a woman about her size. Sam knew this when the armor, with an armored skirt, heavy greaves, and sleeves down to her wrists, looked like it would fit her perfectly. Sam knew this when taking the armor off the stand and finding there to be all the padding she'd need to just get in if she wanted. But here she was, with the armor laid out in front of her, ready for her to put it on.
Greg, her friend, was up there. A man she respected and admired. A mentor who taught her. And she left him to those bunny things?! She might not be good at fighting but she'd feel terrible forever if she left him up there. So she wouldn't.
The chest piece went on first, the skirt attached to it. It was simple enough to get, each half locking together with buckles in an almost calmshell design rather than straps. It's easy to fit and lock, even if it might not be the most protective. Soon Sam's got it nice and snug and, much to her relief, it fits a little snugly but still vey well well, though she had to remove some her shirt to get it to fit. "Of course, it's maybe fitting too well but..." She groans a bit. This is such a bad idea. But she really needs to save Greg.
Sliding the greaves on, she's pleased to see that they too fit. It's not a perfect match, she has to go barefoot into them in order to slip into the huge one piece things, again, given some give by a clamshell clamp design, but she manages it. As soon as she's locked in, despite some tightness, the inside feels like a good tight sock, though obviously heavier. A similar scenario follows with the arms, each piece open enough to let Sam get her body inside, then closed tight with those clamps. After a few moments of adjusting everything, putting on some gauntlets and the helmet of the armor that sort of looked like a stylized woman's face in the same burnished steel as the rest of the armor, she was ready.
The armor, while certainly not light, wasn't heavy enough for her to feel burdened. Somewhat drunk on how badass she felt in it, she instinctually grabbed a sword almost as long as she was out the room and down the hallway, only to find...