A slender, slightly-built woman staggered into the Sorting Room on high-heeled boots, emerging from a cloud of smoke, the kind a fog machine might make, stage-smoke. Wild eyes peered from garish pools of makeup, darting confused glances here and there. Hedwig Robinson tugged at the hems of her cutoffs and smoothed sweaty palms along her gleaming
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"You sing?" Lola smiled a bit. "Neat! We could sing together some time. Or if you're offering makeovers... I haven't had one in a while. It could be fun!"
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"Sing? Oh, I sing, all right. I'll never be silenced," she declared with bravado. "I could use a backup singer. Someone with whom to harmonize." Yitzhak apparently hadn't followed her to .. wherever this was.
Hedwig sized up the girl. Pretty, enthusiastic, didn't seem about to ask Hedwig whether she had accepted Jesus Christ as her personal lord and savior -- she hoped. When was the last time someone was genuinely friendly to Hedwig, who didn't want something from her?
"You have lovely natural hair," she said. "We could tease that into something truly formidable."
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"No one should ever be silenced," said Lola serenely, a smile still quirking up one corner of her mouth. "I haven't sung with anyone for some time, so I'd love to harmonize with you sometime. There's a place around here with a karaoke machine, you know."
She was an angel, but she wasn't, like, religious or anything, so Lola had no plans on trying to introduce any sort of holy person whatsoever to Hedwig. You handed your religion on your own, in her opinion. She looked delighted at the compliment, and her smile turned broader as her hand automatically went up to pat her hair.
"Oh, thank you! Do you have anything in mind?"
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It seemed a live band did not prefer Hedwig, however. Maybe they'd gotten tired of her holding their passports as hostage? Whatever the case, a veritable storm of wigs abruptly began flying out of the same cloud of smoke from which Hedwig had emerged. All of them were blonde. Most of them were rather ... dramatic.
Hedwig teetered back amid an onslaught of wigs. "Well!" She drew up her chin, deliberately composing herself, and with a taut smile picked up one of the wigs, a long razor-cut shag, very '70s.
"A look like this you would be able to pull off very well."
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"I'll take the kiss, if you don't mind," she purred.
((Up for some hawt transvestite-on-dominatrix action? XD))
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"Give me some sugar," she cooed.
She was mindful of the woman's hands. She'd be ready to dodge if claws went for her eyes!
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"You got it."
It was one hand, and it was going for the back of the neck to draw Hedwig down into kissing range. She leaned up and put her mouth to Hedwig's, and kissed her quite thoroughly before stepping away.
"Now that was a fine bribe," she purred. "What vote would you like me to give you, dear?"
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Hedwig, no mean kisser herself, only hoped her lipstick hadn't been too badly smudged. Thankfully, her cosmetics case had just clattered through whatever portal she and then her wigs had been flung. She could do a few quick repairs if she needed.
"I grew up in East Berlin. Democracy does not come naturally to me." Hmm, did she still have all her band members' passports on her? "Vote, schmote, put me up wherever there's a soft bed and a softer touch."
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Finally, someone was bringing the sparkle!
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Delirium watched Hedwig, curious. "Um. I like your stockings," she said, with an almost childlike grin. "Is Cher the cheese after love?"
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“Cher-cheese could have company, then.” The thought made her happy, and when she was happy the butterflies flew out of her hair again, swooping and vaguely sparkly. “I wouldn’t want to bartend in a wall, thought.”
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