(no subject)
In the whole huge multiverse, there had to be fashion police somewhere. Thankfully Victor had evaded them thus far. She seemed to have missed rule 6.3 of fashion law, namely thou shalt not mix patterns. Her jacket was plaid, her shirt was striped, her other shirt had polka dots and her pants were floral. It worked on her, though, in the same way that some people looked better in jeans and button-ups.
She did not ask 'Why don't they make superhero pajamas in adult sizes' even though that was the question on her mind. She was engaging in self-restraint.
Victor was also idly working on a painting. It was small, the size of a matchbook, and in shades of blues. She was trying the littler lines with a sewing needle. "Do you have rules? What do you do when someone tries to mess with them?"
She did not ask 'Why don't they make superhero pajamas in adult sizes' even though that was the question on her mind. She was engaging in self-restraint.
Victor was also idly working on a painting. It was small, the size of a matchbook, and in shades of blues. She was trying the littler lines with a sewing needle. "Do you have rules? What do you do when someone tries to mess with them?"