Early the next morning, Rob wakes to find himself alone. Curious, he slides out of bed, dons his bathrobe, and heads downstairs, surprised to find the house seemingly empty. However, as he's about to head outside, he hears a loud sneeze. A moment later, Hanna stumbles out of the kitchen, half-covered in paprika, and it's obvious a substantial amount has gotten up her nose and in her eyes.
"Hanna, just… why?" Rob asks in exasperation.
"Because I… achoo! …want to be orange again," Hanna explains. "It's not… achoo! …worked."
"Clearly," Rob agrees, moving to assist the suffering vixen. "Come on, let's get this stuff off you."
"Wash it… achoo! …all out again? No… achoo! …way!" Hanna refuses, backing away from Rob.
"You're half-blind and sneezing every five seconds," Rob observes. "That can't be pleasant."
"I'm fine!" Hanna insists, continuing to back away. "I just need… achoo! …a few-"
Before Hanna can finish, she bumps into the sofa. Flailing desperately, she falls onto the sofa, only to roll off and onto the floor, clattering into the coffee table as she does so.
Ow. "OK, let's… achoo! …get this crap… achoo! …off me," she relents.
Forty minutes later, Hanna is free of all traces of paprika, and back to being arctic white. Her eyes are still irritated and bloodshot, but at least she can see again.
"If you're really that desperate to be the right colours again, I can go to Shang Mu and pick up some fur dye," Rob offers as he sets a fresh hot chocolate with marshmallows on the table in front of Hanna.
"No, it's OK," Hanna sighs, her maroon cloak wrapped tightly around her, hood pulled low over her fringe. "Like you said, it'll grow out soon enough… I guess I just need to be patient. How long do you think it'll take?"
"I'm no expert, but I'd estimate about a week," Rob answers.
"A week?" Hanna squeaks.
"Well, six days," Rob self-corrects. "It's been nearly a whole day already since it happened."
"Six days…" Hanna breathes. "Plenty of time to plot revenge," she adds menacingly.
"Oh no, you are not going to take revenge on Lilac and Carol," Rob forbids.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt them too much," Hanna assures.
"You won't hurt them at all," Rob corrects.
"I'm not letting them get away with this," Hanna insists.
"So you're going to sink to their level?"
"I'm going to teach them never to mess with me again."
"You do know the only reason they played that prank was to get you back for turfing them out?"
"Look, I-" Hanna begins.
"Want to prove yourself better than Lilac?" Rob finishes. "Then drop it. Be the better person and let it slide."
"But-"
"What would you rather people think? That you're petty and vindictive, or strong and resilient?"
"…Ancients darn it, I hate it when you're right," Hanna reluctantly admits. "OK, I'll let it go. On one condition."
"What's that?"
"Be white with me."
"Be what?"
"Go to Shang Mu, buy a bottle of peroxide, and use it bleach all your hair and fur."
"OK," Rob agrees. "I'll do it if that's what it takes to finally get you to let it go."
A few hours later, Rob pads downstairs and into the den dressed only in a bathrobe. "It is done," he informs Hanna, who is waiting on the sofa.
"Let's see then," Hanna replies.
Rob slips off the bathrobe and tosses it onto the chair, revealing that every last inch of his naked form is brilliant peroxide white. "What do you think?"
At first Hanna doesn't reply: she simply stares at Rob. Moments later, she feels a temptation rise within her. And a few moments after that, she bursts out laughing.
"Oh, so now you find it funny!" Rob retorts with feigned offence.
"Sorry," Hanna apologises, shedding her cloak behind the sofa. She then looks at her own peroxide fur. "It's weird, but now you're white as well, it's like… I could get used to this."
"We could stay white if keep bleaching our fur," Rob offers, taking a seat in the chair.
"We could, but we won't," Hanna admits. "I like being orange too much to be white."
"I'll admit, I do prefer being silver," Rob agrees.
