32 Apocalypse Avenue (above Freelance Police HQ), Saturday Morning
"MAAAaaaaaAAAX? ...I mean, SAAaaaAAM?"
The voice echoing through the apartment was as psychotic as usual, that was for sure, but there was something... different about it. Something... feminine.
"SAM! Come out here!!! I have a very important question and I need you to answer me RIGHT NOW: WHO STOLE MY EARS!?!?!?!"
Because, obviously, when you wake up to find yourself the wrong gender, two feet taller, and missing all your adorable white fur, THAT'S the important question.
[OOC: Okay, so. You know how LiveJournal sometimes screws up and shows the wrong icons? For the past week or so, Max's default icon has, on occasion, been replaced with this one. And therefore, I say, when LJ gives me lemons? I make disturbingly-crazy-looking-hot-girl-ade!]
The voice echoing through the apartment was as psychotic as usual, that was for sure, but there was something... different about it. Something... feminine.
"SAM! Come out here!!! I have a very important question and I need you to answer me RIGHT NOW: WHO STOLE MY EARS!?!?!?!"
Because, obviously, when you wake up to find yourself the wrong gender, two feet taller, and missing all your adorable white fur, THAT'S the important question.
[OOC: Okay, so. You know how LiveJournal sometimes screws up and shows the wrong icons? For the past week or so, Max's default icon has, on occasion, been replaced with this one. And therefore, I say, when LJ gives me lemons? I make disturbingly-crazy-looking-hot-girl-ade!]