"It's just so much hard work," Chloe groans, swinging around on the edge of the bath tub, "Alone. Anyway." She adds, wet hair splashing everywhere like a damn dog, she's shook it just to spite you too,

Hey, you're the one who's having the audacity to complain, Chloe's loving this. No one's helped her with her hair since Rachel. The three of you were always together, but as she recalls, you're excuse was always something about not wanting to be turned into a smurf, or something. She's paraphrasing. Either way, it was just you being ridiculous.

Since, well, six months ago and all, she's never bothered tending to it, after all, the both of you were still holding out hope. But, maybe it's time to.. she doesn't know, recover? It's getting tiring hanging on to every bad thing that's happened in her life. This time, experiencing Rachel's disappearance, she wasn't alone. And it hurt seeing you go through that too.

Which is why today is about keeping it light, Chloe decides. And any moment remembering Rachel will be spent remembering the good stuff. And any second of you dying her hair will be spent teasing you, and calling you smurfette, she decides — because you have a really weird hatred for that damn film, but who's she to judge?

"Cmon, you should've mixed it already!" Chloe complains, stained pirate towel draped over her shoulders, blue blotches on it from previous box dye jobs, but who actually cares? She doesn't, and from the look on your face through the mirror, you're too busy glaring,

Alright, so maybe she's overdoing it with the playfulness, but the weight on her chest lightens a little when she sees your reactions,

"M'trying to live out my Blade runner fantasies here!"