savetheearth | The Fake Grape Stomp

Who:Bakura and anyone~!
When: All day Sunday.
Where: Around Locke City, especially the arcade
What: Bakura took up Julian's offer and got his hair dyed kool-aid grape and decided to show off that and his "new" trench with a stop around town.

It might have been a little warm for a black trench coat but the swish of the open coat helped any heat that it pulled in escape and honestly, Bakura was enjoying himself a bit too much to care. The hair dying had gone pretty well, and even if it wasn't as dark as he had hoped, it did make his hair look like it was intentionally a weird colour instead of just being... white, and with the summer growth it was even longer than normal, which just felt right, oddly enough.

...the sneakers ruined the badass effect, though. But whatever, he didn't have stompy boots and wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to bother with them. He wouldn't have even bothered with the trench if it hadn't shown up, but since it had...

He couldn't shake the lingering smell of that grape koolaid, however. He was pretty sure it was all in his head -- or nose even!-- after sitting with that stuff soaking into his hair for so long.

Most of the day was spent in and out of the arcade, with his usual evening stop at the gym. Not that he had too much aggression to get out, as he was actually in a pretty good mood, all things considered! But he couldn't let himself get soft~

[[OoC: Just say where you spotted him in the subject line, thanks!]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hey, he was still worried. It was a deviation from normal behavior and that's not good...although this could still be a bit of normal adolescent exploration. "Is there any special reason you dyed it purple?"

So he was prying. Prying was how Mort ~~did his job~~ showed he cared.

"Because red would have faded to pink, why do you care?" Bakura returned. He did not want to get into the mess that was his insecurity of his hair with Mr. Nosey. At all.

"It's just an unusual color." And unusual colors sometimes meant unusual things. "Lavender is preferable to pink, then?"

He wondered how he had even gotten into this conversation, really.

"Of course. Anything's better than pink."

"Is there some special occasion that would require purple hair? A concert of some sort, perhaps?" This wasn't a gang initiation thing, was it? Bakura didn't seem the type.

Was this another personality coming out and deciding purple hair was a good idea?

"....I was tired of it being white, okay?" Bakura sighed. "And purple seemed like a good colour. Do you have to be such a killjoy about everything, trying to find hidden reason in every damned thing I do?"

Mort held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm just checking up on you, not trying to be a killjoy. I can't say I was expecting to see you walking around with purple hair, that's all."

He decided to refrain from mentioning the grapey odor, too.

"And I wasn't expecting you to be a stalker who plays with dolls, but hey, apparently you are," Bakura returned with a slight glare. Mort always managed to get him into a foul mood....

"Just because I went to talk to you doesn't mean you get to second guess everything I do."

"Having it show up at odd moments when the water's involved and then shutting it back in my desk hardly counts as playing with it..." Mort was just glad Bakura hadn't seen the odd accessories he'd gotten back for it. He never would have heard the end of that.

"I wasn't trying to second-guess you--only to make sure everything was, er, normal." That Bakura wasn't running around under the influence of another personality. That wasn't second-guessing, right?

Bakura sang two lines of "Creepy doll" under his breath before giving a deep sigh. "Checking up on me to make sure I hadn't gone off the deep end. Because of this," he pointed to the deeply tinted grape mass of hair. "I thought they said you had experience dealing with teenagers," he snorted disdainfully.

There was a noticeable cringe at that song. It hit just a little too close to home, that was for certain.

"I do have experience with teenagers--but a possible MPD or DID diagnosis complicates things." There was a weary sigh at that. At least Bakura was acting perfectly normal?

Bakura's smirk at the cringe faded as he all but twitched in return as Mort spoke. "Don't fucking mention that where anyone can hear damnit," he all but hissed, shoulders hunching in.

"I wasn't planning on it." Mort gave a weary sigh. "Believe it or not, I'm not out to send you away to a mental hospital somewhere."

"You sure as hell act like it..." Bakura half muttered, looking to the side.

Mort didn't push for the eye contact there. "The medicine was meant to avoid that scenario, not bring it to pass."

"Pretty small difference, being locked away and having your brain reordered..." Bakura muttered. "And don't even try and protest that shit I'm not in the mood. I was actually in a good mood before you decided to come ruin it. Jerk."

Mort wondered if every conversation they had was destined to end up like this. "It's not like I planned a chance encounter like this."

"Yeah. Well. There's only so many times you can say that that I'd believe you," Bakura countered. "Not that it matters, stuck with you as long as you still have a number...."

Mort shrugged. "Such is fate, I suppose. Perhaps something good might come of it."

A small snort. "Yeah, right."

"You never know. Stranger things have happened," Mort offered. With the network, anything was possible, alarmingly enough.

Another snort. "Whatever. I'm going to punch the hell out of a bag of sand or whatever's in those boxing dummies now," the teen dismissed before starting for the gym door.

Mort watched him go and gave him a bit of a nod. No need to continue needling Bakura with his presence, not now. "Enjoy your workout, then."

In response, Bakura flipped him the bird before going inside.

The Fake Grape Stomp

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