[b]Orange:[/b]

Fiona’s eyes widen. She turns in time to see Crystal’s pupils dilate, then her eyes fog over entirely. Apparently you can blush through fur. Fiona snaps her fingers in front of Crystal’s eyes, to no avail. Soft fingers trace the lines already down on the napkin drawing. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Stay with me.” Fiona sighs. “Now you’ve done it. I think that’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to her, unfortunately.” There’s a tight grimace. “You really had to go with the Count of Monte Cristo didn’t you?” Her eyes flick to the television, they’re broadcasting the SES feed again. “Don’t think I didn’t notice ‘Crimson Tower' as a name. If Pink ever gets a step closer to styling herself as the Scarlet Pimpernel there’ll never be an end to it.”

She should not have said that out loud. It has only made the problem worse. Crystal’s hand tightens like a vice around Fiona’s wrist. “Excuse me. We may need to use the ladies room for a minute.” 

“Might we?” Fiona tries to snark, but it’s impossible. The brain fog is contagious, transmitted by touch. Her gaze wanders to just how [i]firm[/i] that grip on her wrist is. “Damn it. Now?” 

“Now.” Crystal affirms, her voice about half an octave lower than her usual register. She clears her throat a little, pitch shifts back up. “I apologize, this is a [i]very[/i] important conversation, one that deserves our utmost attention and empathy, and we suddenly find ourselves devastatingly unable to concentrate.” Normally Fiona might interrupt about that ‘we’ Crystal just used, but after that bit of pitch shifting Fiona is so deep in sub space you’d need Dad’s entire team to navigate her out of it. Crystal isn’t normally[i] that[/i] good. You’ve committed some atrocious splash damage, it seems. “You are warmly welcomed to be a part of the solution, but I recognize you may be more in the mood for [i]communique[/i], [i]mon Dragonne.[/i]”

Then she loops one finger around the top button of Fiona’s collar and pulls her towards the restrooms like she’s on a leash. So at least you won't be the only one who'll have spent fifteen minutes in there trying to compose yourself. 

Sophie’s replied, of course.

[b]Oxytoxin: [/b]Spill, spill, spill!!!!!!!!!!!!
[b]Oxytoxin: [/b]I’m so fucking bored right now holy shit
[b]Oxytoxin:[/b] If I don’t get someone to play with in the next now, I was going to see if I couldn’t crosswire two rats together so they swapped motor outputs. 
[b]Oxytoxin:[/b] then put them both in front of a mirror to see what they figured out

Yep.

[b]Chocolate:

[/b]Secreting Goat into the cargo of the delivery ship to Thrones is a process without an external enemy for the pair to concentrate their attention on, leaving them no distractions from each other’s throats. 

Will any be taking the ship to Thrones to bring him to Dad? Or do you trust Singh to pick him up from the airport and handle it from there? Who would be going? 

This will take a while.