AN: A little break from the east coast drama...
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On the west coast, Kalos looked at his car by his condo.
When Sarah happened upon him talking to Layla on the phone and suggesting that he send May over to New York to get Sora into gear, he knew that there would be repercussions to what he had said.
Since then, he had been hiding his car keys and his wallet. He even asked Policeman Jerry to put those blocks on his wheels so that Sarah wouldn't take it out of the parking space of his condo.
He took a cab to work until her rage passed.
Worst case scenario, he figured she'd paint his car neon pink, but he would prefer paint than a more expensive body work done on the car. Then he'd have to spend money to get it back to normal.
But this monstrosity…he would not have expected it from her.
Rainbow peace signs littered the body of his car with matching rainbow upholstery; no doubt she paid someone extra—probably with his money somehow—to do a "house call" job. He tilted his head to the side in order to better see what was hanging from his rearview mirror.
An atrocious pink fuzzy dice topped the new look of his car.
The repairs are coming out of her paycheck.
He highly doubted that she'd bat an eyelash at the loss. He turned around from the grotesque sight that his car was and pulled out his cell phone. When Sarah finally picked up, she seemed to know why he was calling as she starting talking about peace signs and Gandhi.
He raised a brow at her reasoning. "That is not the meaning of 'civil disobedience'…"
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Out on the stage, Leon's figure was a blur on the ice.
His blades cut the ice with precision and without another thought to the damage done. His silver hair flowed around him like liquid mercury, enchanting to watch but dangerous to touch.
He made a sharp turn and his skate shaved the ice he had passed by, further marring the once smooth surface of the rink.
There was a moment of stillness as he looked around him at the deep cuts in the ice and the wasteland he transformed this once perfect scene of pseudo winter.
Somewhere in his looking, his mind inputted a memory onto the scene of a figure skating with him, trusting him with eyes closed as he spun them around. Her red hair flitted into the air as she arched her back and posed. He watched her from his crouched position, focusing on her like she'd be the last image he'd ever see and yet he had no qualms with that idea.
If he was honest with himself, he'd still have no qualms with that.
He blinked and the memory was back in his head.
His hands fisted; he'd done it again.
This is not what I'm in here for.
Grey eyes narrowed. With a turn of his head, he skated off of the rink, knowing that his concentration will not return while on the ice.
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