After the brunch, Quinn had taken a page she'd torn out of Cosmo to Theodoric's of York, handed it to a stylist, and watched in satisfaction as the long hair fell away from her face. It was therapeutic; she looked like an adult now, not like some little girl who'd spent all weekend halfway waiting for Mommy and Daddy to show up
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"Are you... dying your hair?"
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She was sarcastic, but she also wasn't.
Quinn tilted her head at the mirror, trying to see if it looked like she'd gotten the dye gel all the way to her roots.
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Well. At least this one didn't involve a machete?
"Trying out a new look?" she asked, deliberately super-casual, as she took off her sweater to inspect the stain a little closer.
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She studied her reflection some more. "I'm calling it stress relief."
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While examining the spot on her sweater, she asked, "You want to talk about whatever brought this on? Aaaand this is ketchup. Great." Petra turned the water on so she could hopefully rinse the stain out.
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She smiled wanly. "It's not that interesting. My parents split up over the summer. Neither of them made it this weekend -- which bit. And I've been stressed. There's the sorority, there's council, there's my classes, there's senior year stuff, there's living on an insane island ... everything. I needed to do something radical."
Pink hair counted.
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