O2: Well, that little nuisance is taken care of.
*dusts off hands*
Voice: Excuse me.
O2: O.O
Voice: Excuse me Miss.
O2: Not again. *slaps head*
Person whose voice belongs to: Good Evening Miss O2. My name is Quatre R…
O2: Why can't you assassins just leave me alone!
Quatre: I'm sorry Miss but I don't underst…
O2: *irate* Of course you don't!
Quatre: *sweatdrop* Well…
O2: After the passing of two of you, don't you guys ever get a hint?!
Quatre: Well, Duo did run away, Hero's still looking for him. And Wufei is in the hospital in stable condition mind you…
O2: Ya know, you sound gay.
Quatre: *blinks* Excuse me?
O2: You heard me.
Quatre: *stares*
O2: Helllllloooo. *waves hand in front of his face*
Quatre: *breaks down into tears* WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK THAT?!
O2: *blinks*
Quatre: No matter how hard I try. *pulls tissue box from nowhere*
O2: Okay. *blinks*
Quatre: I mean, I drive a friggin giant robot. *blows nose* I thought I'd be layed at least 5 by now. *sniffle* But NO. Just because I did drag ONCE! I'm labeled for life. Confound it! That was on Halloween.
O2: I so did NOT wonna know that.
Quatre: Well, if it's manly that you want, then by all fluffy rabbits it's man you'll get. *tears shirt open*
O2: Note to all. Never send them to me in an unstable condition.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^**^*^*^*
"You want me to do WHAT?!"
The female voice bellowed in a desolate tone.
"Yes" said he, the designer of fashion, that'd been hired for this mission.
He was, of course, utterly ignoring her.
"Classic will most definitely do. I suggest we dye your hair a wine red. Then a dark maroon for the lips, and crushed velvet, no sleeve gown."
She blinked.
"You have heard that I've been considered a psychopath?"
Though calm in tone, her words had been gritted, spit with flame.
He, to the disbelief of those present, continued to ignore her.
"And you."
With a kind of pleasure in his eyes, he turned to her partner, Don Mitchel.
"To match your green eyes and flawless olive complexion" the designer winked, "I suggest Armanie."
She stared at the designer, who she now identified as Zhan, and then at Mitchel, who was sweating with a sense of dread.
A cold smirk played on her lips, earning wide eyes from Zhan.
"Yes," she stood in frozen air, "I see it now."
Fear entwined itself in the eyes of her fellow agent.
"I believe a soft or perhaps chestnut brown, or maybe a grayish mocha. Then we'll clean up those shoulder length blonde locks of yours with a shave, perhaps slight spikes."
A frown came to the designer's lips.
"But I like long hair."
"A shave it is."
She looked at him, Don that is.
He was eager.
You owe me.
"We'll have to get rid of that stubble of yours."
Panic streaked through his eyes.
"I also think a new hair color is in order."
His eyes widened again.
"After all, this will be formal dining."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
O2: The beginnings of a new chapter, and I don't feel like finishing it.
Quatre: Yeah Little Lady.
O2: *blinks* He's taken on the cowboy style.
Quatre: *dressed in pink cow boots and white silk shirt, vest, and pants*
O2: He also won't stop walking like a penguin.
Quatre: *frowns*
O2: *looks him up and down*
Quatre: *glares*
O2: You still look gay.
Quatre: *screams*