Marisa's POV I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair, it just won t behave, and damn raymoo for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I have tried to brush my hair into submission but it s not toeing the line. I must learn not to sleep with it wet. I recite this five times as a mantra whilst I try, once more, with the brush. I give up. The only thing I can do is restrain it, tightly, in a pony tail and hope that I look reasonably presentable.