Ah, weird weekends. Weird, weird weekends. Sparkle would have been more worked up about the whole thing if not for the fact that Atton's counterpart seemed to have an... at least passably level head on his shoulders. Probably wasn't going to go running around the island causing mayhem or anything like that, anyway. That was reassuring, to a degree
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"Do you have anything that's not beige?" he said, stepping inside. "Or billowy?"
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Was that one of the teachers?
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Still hot.
"Or baggy and in pretty much any colour of the rainbow you have your heart set on. We're kind of the place to go if the whole 'beige robes' thing isn't your speed."
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Half of the wardrobe in the shack had been shades of off-white. He was so done with off-white.
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... This was not a stretch for Sparkle, anyway.
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The Number Four walked in (because of course it had legs) and gave Sparkle a big googly-eyed smile. "Hello, friend! I'm the Number Four!"
In case you couldn't tell.
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"... Are you sure? I mean, you could be a plus sign, or the letter U but just a little drunk. I might need to see some ID."
Sparkle enjoyed trolling. So sue him.
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Did the bottom of the number four really count as hips?
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