“Look. I get it, I do,” Rowan sighed, running her fingers through her now even shorter hair in frustration. “I know I do not look like the person on my ID card. Clearly. But I have to get to the labs to finish up the next batch of samples or it’s going to be forty-eight hours of tests ruined, and Dr. Rees-Smith will have my head.” Not that she honestly thought the good doctor would, but she hoped the urgency in her voice might convince the security guard to let her through. It had already been a strange enough morning, what with having to pull out some of her brother’s old clothes to even make it this far into C.A.R.M.A. Sure, she wasn’t dressed like a professional, but at least she wasn’t naked. And then there was the whole uncontrollable singing thing, which probably wasn’t helping her plea for mercy.
“Look! I don’t recognize her either but she’s going straight through with no issues! Did someone piss in your Cheerios this morning or something?”
@xastcriiax