Before the Journey to the Center of Trollstopia

"Val said the concert is going to-"

"Rock! I heard that one. I want to wear my Bad Hair Day-"

"Shirt? I saw it in the laundry room."

Poppy and Branch blinked at each other. Silence was followed by two mischievous smiles.

"Are we finishing-"

"Each other sentences? I think so."

A new grin. Branch couldn't resist and take his girlfriend's hand to raise it to his lips. She blushed at his gentletroll kind of kiss, sealing a different step in their relationship. They were connected up to their minds.

"You are so sweet." Poppy said, playfully booping his nose. "Are we late enough for the Hard Rock Tribe standards?"

"A few more minutes, I guess." Branch checked his hug watch. "I think half an hour late is about right."

"They are so different from us that sometimes I get confused." Poppy confessed. She walked into the bathroom, leaving the door open. Branch peeked inside, seeing that she was looking for something inside the cabinet under the sink.

"If you're looking for your brush, I borrowed it this morning." He immediately walked into his bedroom to retrieve the item. "Sorry, I think I misplaced mine."

"It's okay." Poppy blew him a kiss, taking the brush and turning to the mirror. Branch leaned against the doorframe, watching his girlfriend doing her hair. "What do you think? Should I try something different?"

"I always love how you look no matter what you do with your hair." Tricky questions about looks required answers that wouldn't leave room for misunderstanding. Sighing, he hoped she wouldn't notice he was playing safe.

But of course she did.

"Smart answer." Her giggles echoed through the bathroom. The scent of her shampoo made him wish to bury his nose in her hair.

In the end, she chose to let it free and up as usual. It was safer for a rock concert without getting dressed as a rock troll.

"So we wait to talk to them after the concert, right?" Poppy put the brush back in place and turned to exit the bathroom under the enamored look from her boyfriend.

"Yes, I'm sure my theory is right." Branch replied, taking a scrapbook from his hair.

"Oh, a scrapbook, I wanna see it!"

"Nope, you'll see it when the time is right and my theory is confirmed." He quickly put it away before Poppy managed to get it. "Just wait until they throw all the broken guitars away."

"Okay, fine, I'll wait." She rolled her eyes playfully at him and both made their way to the surface.

"But you understand how dangerous it is, right? Messing with magma isn't something to be seen lightly." Suddenly going serious, the survivalist recalled one day when he was talking with Demo about the amount of wires around Hard Rock Hollow. It was a fire hazard. Branch couldn't avoid checking on them and while he tried to explain to Demo that electrified cables had to be carefully managed, Branch felt the earth moving and rumbling.

It alarmed him immediately. Minunciously checking the underground and the tectonic plates, Branch found the source of the potential disaster: a ginormous guitar trash clotting the magma that needed to be urgently fixed.

"We don't mess with mother nature and I will back you up all the way, captain." Poppy teased him.

"Navigator, Poppy. I'll be the navigator."

With a small smile, Poppy followed him out of the bunker. Branch tried to ignore the admiration that was implicit in her quick glances. The pride he felt whenever she approved one of his ideas pumped his ego up and flushed his cheeks.

"So…" Poppy grabbed his hand as they walked. "We're going to pretend we just found out about the clot, right?"

"That's right."

"And they won't notice you had time to scrapbook your geological findings?"

"I'm sure they won't pay attention to that."

Meanwhile, before exposing a possible disaster, why not enjoy a good rock concert...