foolishwren | 97. [Action for Goldenrod/Private Text]

[Locked to Ironhide, Minnie Mouse, Otacon, and Dale Cooper]

I don't know if it'll fix anything at this point, because I said some pretty horrendous things to all of you, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry.

I'll understand if you're still mad. None of you need to reply to this.

[Action for Goldenrod]

_{[It's probably not surprising that there's been radio silence from Heather on the 'Gear for awhile, considering... well, everything. Even if she hadn't had her 'Gear confiscated as part of the 'grounding', she hadn't exactly been in a chatty mood.]

[But even if she's bound to the city, she's not bound to the hotel room, and considering that she's sort of in the doghouse at the moment, she's not too interested in staying cooped up with the people who are rightfully upset with her.]

[So she can be found wandering the streets of Goldenrod City with Cujo padding along at her side, window-shopping or occasionally lounging on a bench-- minus the firepowers that blew the metaphorical Diglett-hole into a volcanic mountain a few weeks ago, but unfortunately still with the unattractive aftereffects of the whole ordeal: smoky black hair, patches of scorched-looking skin, and a permanent burnt-toast smell following her around.]}

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

_{[YEAH THOSE NEVER HAPPEN AT ALL]

[EVER]

[REALLY]

[With the corners of her mouth quirked up in mingled amusement and fondness, Heather shrugs her own shoulders, leaning back a little to look up at the sky thoughtfully.]}

Hm.

I guess I can probably come up with a few.

... You a natural carrot-top?

_{[She says this with a smirk, looking back over to him. COME ON CROW THAT SHADE OF ORANGE CANNOT BE NATURAL.]}

[SERIOUSLY

WHAT A JOKE

Clearly, Heather is about to ask some deep, existential question-- yes, just like that one. Crow gives her a playful punch of the shoulder, but the smile never leaves his face.]

Yep. One hundred percent natural.

[He turns to her with a smirk on his own.]

What, you jealous?

_{[HO HO HO.]

[She rocks to the side, grinning-- she expected a response more or less like that.]}

Maybe a little.

Anything's better than this, after all.

_{[She plucks at the scorched black hair she's been left with from the 'disease', ironically returning her back to HER natural color. Except that no amount of blond dye will be able to get rid of this for awhile.]}

Even if it does make you look like a crayon.

[Maybe that's why children like him so much.]

Dunno 'bout you, but I'd take being a crayon over a burned toast any day.

[... Which is a pretty terrible joke, all things considered, but hey, he has no way of knowing...]

_{[IT IS, BUT HE DOESN'T KNOW, she'll let it go.]}

Me too, believe me.

If you ask me, you look better as a blonde, anyway.

[But now that he thinks about other options...]

... Though maybe we can get you some better color. Blue? Green? ... Pink?

[~~Maybe he'll actually put dye in your shampoo this time~~]

Don't worry, I'm with you there. Never liked the black-cat look.

_{[Leaning back against the bench, she considers the options.]}

Hm... always did wanna try something crazy. ... Dad never let me before.

_{[His reasoning had been that it would draw too much attention to her. At the time, of course, being an attention-craving teenager, that had sounded fine to her. Now she knew why her father had tried so hard to keep her as low-profile as possible, of course...]

[But now there was no reason to stay under-cover...]}

97. [Action for Goldenrod/Private Text]

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