Jo's also gotten the hang of maneuvering in the ungodly and uncomfortable dress she was forced into. She hasn't been able to take it off yet. It makes showering complicated, let us tell you. She's nearby when she sees Flack help the little girl by rescuing her kitten, and finds that kids these days can be a tad ungrateful.
There's a small smirk, though, because the visual is amusing and it's a real comfort to find others that are on the same boat as her.
As she doubts Flack has chosen to wear that armor. Not that this is impossible in Chicago.
Jo struts over to him and, since she still has Rapunzel-length hair, will be using it to aid her in this expedition. She whips it up, tosses it over, and wraps it around the armor, tugging forcefully until something gives. ... Yes. Really.
Flack has not chosen to wear this armor. He has no idea why anyone would choose to wear this armor, even when it was actually part of the current fashion.
Flack has been too busy trying to pry his armor off the tree to notice the person with all the hair coming up behind him until the hair is actually wrapped around him. He shifts to push back against tree to go with her pulling and eventually there's a crack! and whatever is holding him in the tree gives. He stumbles backwards, and lands with a clank! on the ground in front of it.
He takes a minute to catch his breath, before tipping his head back and pushing up his visor so he can see. "Thanks."
Jo stumbles a few steps, and she has to fight to gain proper footing once more. She stares at the hair wrapped around her palm like a bandage and proceeds to glance up at the branch, slightly impressed with herself. She's not even going to lie. The hair finally became useful.
"Anytime," she says with a light smirk, kneeling down in front of him. "Gives a whole new meaning to hairy situations, doesn't it?"
She makes a brave attempt at pushing said hair back. "You okay?"
"Yep," he says as he does his best to push himself up onto his feet again. It takes a minute, but eventually he's up and brushing the grass off him, before looking over with a smile. "I'm good. I just can't wait for all of this to be over."
"You're telling me. Can't handle all this damn hair," Jo says, smirk still slightly curved against her lips, but she brings herself to her feet again if he says he's okay. She's still going to stretch out a hand in case he needs the boost.
Flack will take that hand as he pushes himself up. He's learned that sometimes it helps to have a counterweight. He just hopes that Jo's enough of a counterweight that he doesn't just pull her down with him.
... Oh, yes. He is heavier than she had anticipated, and she's going to try her best to serve as that counterweight. She likes to think she's ten feet tall, but she's a small thing, and she'll get pulled down with him, flopped on his armor.
"... Well, hi there, Don Flack," she says, almost sheepishly.
He laughs a bit as the both go tumbling back onto the ground, before reaching for her waist, and helping her to push back up onto her feet. The world right now is pretty awkward as it is. He's not going to make it worse.
Jo appreciates that, Flack, though it's quite a feat to get her flusterd. She laughs along with him, bracing her hands on his shoulders and helping him along with the whole pushing them both back to their feet.
"Listen. It's been a long day. I can tell it's been a long day for you, too. I work at a bar that's still closed, but you sure look like you could use a drink."
Flack raises an eyebrow at that, but who is he to turn down a drink. Especially in a town like Chicago. Offers like that don't come around all that often, and he nods.
And lead the way she does. To the Crowbar, that is. It's something of a hassle with all the hair she has to carry around. After a week of doing so, she's all but a pro, at least.
Flack seconds that sentiment as he tries not to step on the hair, or have it get caught in his armor any more than it already has. That ... just seems like it's awkward and would hurt.
When they arrive at the Crowbar, he gives a bit of a shrug. "Not a bad choice."
There's a small smirk, though, because the visual is amusing and it's a real comfort to find others that are on the same boat as her.
As she doubts Flack has chosen to wear that armor. Not that this is impossible in Chicago.
Jo struts over to him and, since she still has Rapunzel-length hair, will be using it to aid her in this expedition. She whips it up, tosses it over, and wraps it around the armor, tugging forcefully until something gives. ... Yes. Really.
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Flack has been too busy trying to pry his armor off the tree to notice the person with all the hair coming up behind him until the hair is actually wrapped around him. He shifts to push back against tree to go with her pulling and eventually there's a crack! and whatever is holding him in the tree gives. He stumbles backwards, and lands with a clank! on the ground in front of it.
He takes a minute to catch his breath, before tipping his head back and pushing up his visor so he can see. "Thanks."
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"Anytime," she says with a light smirk, kneeling down in front of him. "Gives a whole new meaning to hairy situations, doesn't it?"
She makes a brave attempt at pushing said hair back. "You okay?"
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Anytime you're ready, Rift. Really.
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No harm in helping.
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"I'm Don Flack."
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"... Well, hi there, Don Flack," she says, almost sheepishly.
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Or try not to make it worse anyway.
"I think I can figure this out."
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"Listen. It's been a long day. I can tell it's been a long day for you, too. I work at a bar that's still closed, but you sure look like you could use a drink."
Jo's a generous soul that way.
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"Lead the way."
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Stupid Rift.
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When they arrive at the Crowbar, he gives a bit of a shrug. "Not a bad choice."
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