>You sighed.
“This’s so dumb…” You muttered, turning the ignition off.
>Your passenger, raising her eyebrows, glared back.
>”You promised.” She tutted, watching you rub your eyes.
“I dunno, it’s just…”
>Trailing off, you raised your hands off the steering wheel and, unthinking, dropped them down again.
>No way around it; you were acting immature.
>No excuses this year.
>The neighborhood Labor Day party was on your day off.
>And, unlike last year, you now had a Zoroark all too eager to attend.
>You looked to your significant other, frowning.
>She snickered and grinned, rhythmically tapping her disguised fingers against the plastic-wrapped fruit platter in her lap.
>”Does my wittle humie need to go back to his den?” Zoroark cackled.
>Part of you wanted to fight her on that.
>Fire up the car and turn right back home.
>A little, spiteful thought to show her who was in charge.
“I won’t know any of these people.” You spat out.
>”Pfft, so!?” Zoroark blurted, her ‘human’ illusion perfectly imitating human disbelief.
>”This is how I,” she paused “We. Blend in.”
>The red-head pulled down the sun visor above and admiring her disguise in the mirror.
>”You know, if Mama and Papa didn’t do this, we never would have met.” She added.
“Yeah, yeah…”
>A moot point, but why argue?
“Sure you’ll be cool enough?” You asked, looking up and down her as if you could see her luxurious coat.
>She still looked as fluffy as last winter.
>”Shade exists. I’ll be fine.” She answered, flipping the visor back up.
>”Redheads always avoid the sun.”
>She conjured a ballpark hat beneath her seat to wear, and made a show of putting it on.
>”Those water bottles are a bit hard to open, by the way. Open one for me if I hand it to you, alright?”
