[table][row]
[cell][/cell][cell][right][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/165246-typhoid-mary/ooc][img]http://i.imgur.com/ZwMbNku.png?1[/img][/url]
[sub][color=111111][b]Frixion Prime — Main Road[/b][/color]
[@Antarctic Termite] [@Patches][/sub][/right][/cell]
[/row][/table][color=bc8dbf]"Whooaaa..."[/color] Mary stared up (waaay up) at Ayem, wide-eyed, as they left the foody place. [color=bc8dbf]"I didn't know bunnies could make [i]fighting robots[/i]. This changes [i]everything ever.[/i]"[/color] From anyone who wasn't eight years old, the statement probably would have come across as deeply sarcastic - but the little girl's earnestness was clear in her face. Her eyes glazed over a bit as she daydreamed about bunny-piloted mechs saving the future by flying around and being cool. [i]So cool. All the time.[/i]

But that fragile daydream came to an end abruptly, as she realized that her state of not having showered or laundered her clothes at any time she could remember would be a barrier to entry. [color=bc8dbf]"I guess I gooootta, then..."[/color] She pouted, teetering from side to side as she dug her hands deep into the pockets of her soiled hoodie. [color=bc8dbf]"...I dunneven know [i]where[/i], though— [i]Holy cupcakes!![/i]"[/color]

 
[sup][color=53464B]"Can I tell you a secret?"[/color]

[color=473744]"I won't...have to keep it from mother and father again, will I?"[/color]

[color=53464B]"I'm gonna dye my hair! I'm thinking...pink."[/color]

[color=473744]"Anna, you know father won't allow that..."[/color]

[color=53464B]"Hehe, duh. That's why I'm gonna. He'll [i]flip[/i] when he sees it!"[/color][/sup]

 
In that moment, Mary froze up completely. She had only seen it because she had craned her neck up to match Ayem's height. The sky, its stars blotted out by the lights of the city, taking up more than half of her vision. On the walkway above, was a sight that would change her entire life for at least the next five seconds.

[color=bc8dbf]"That person...[i]has pink hair!![/i]"[/color]

The little girl was jumping up and down, pointing excitedly towards an innocent bystander on the walkway above them. [color=bc8dbf]"Heyy! [i]Heeeyyy!![/i]"[/color] She called out as loudly as she could (which wasn't that loud — her voice became strained and crackled as it raised higher than an indoor voice). [color=bc8dbf]"You've got pink hair! Your hair is pink!! It's piiink!!"[/color]

She was calling out in the same tone one might use to alert someone of an oncoming car, veering in the street. A warning, desperately issued at the top of her tiny lungs, showing concern for their safety. In her head, of course, it probably made perfect sense — or, at least as much sense as anything else that made it out of her mouth. For some reason, 'pink hair' was equated with 'danger' for her, through some contrived, internal consistency of questionable logical strength.

To everyone else, she probably just looked like a raving lunatic, or an out-of-control child, or both.