Of all the things and all the people she might have run into, choirboyâs little pet project was low on her list of priorities. Some might see that as foolish given the half-gearâs strength but... well. That was kind of a moot point in this place, wasnât it? A more or less powerless little princess, and no knights in shining buckles to help her out of it?Â
     And sheâd thought Christmas was over.Â
     Her fingers creep along the blue-haired girlâs shoulders, bare, wingless (for the moment? perhaps-- but thatâs what sheâll find out) and slink her arms around her neck. To anyone nearby it looks like a friendly surprise, but to Dizzy alone itâs obvious what it is as soon as I-noâs voice sounds in her ear, low and flat.Â
     âIf you scream, Iâm going to take out this whole fucking street real slow bitch, and you wouldnât want that on your conscience, would you?â Where Sol is usually the main recipient of her fully focused viciousness, sheâs antsy, angry. Thereâs no reason for her to play nice when she feels ready to rip into someone at the wrong word. The little birdbrain just flew into her path at the wrong damn time.Â
     âSo hey there, kiddo,â she sneers, still in disbelief at the choirboy over that little tidbit, âwhatâs up? You here all by your lonesome?â In other words: was her dad around too, or was she going to be waiting for that family reunion for a while yet? It really was important to know-- Solâs presence tended to throw a wrench into things more often than not, and it wasnât something she wanted to deal with now that she was dealing with it on her own.Â