Of all the things and all the people she might have run into, choirboy’s little pet project was low on her list of priorities. Some might see that as foolish given the half-gear’s strength but... well. That was kind of a moot point in this place, wasn’t it? A more or less powerless little princess, and no knights in shining buckles to help her out of it?
And she’d thought Christmas was over.
Her fingers creep along the blue-haired girl’s shoulders, bare, wingless (for the moment? perhaps-- but that’s what she’ll find out) and slink her arms around her neck. To anyone nearby it looks like a friendly surprise, but to Dizzy alone it’s obvious what it is as soon as I-no’s voice sounds in her ear, low and flat.
“If you scream, I’m going to take out this whole fucking street real slow bitch, and you wouldn’t want that on your conscience, would you?” Where Sol is usually the main recipient of her fully focused viciousness, she’s antsy, angry. There’s no reason for her to play nice when she feels ready to rip into someone at the wrong word. The little birdbrain just flew into her path at the wrong damn time.
“So hey there, kiddo,” she sneers, still in disbelief at the choirboy over that little tidbit, “what’s up? You here all by your lonesome?” In other words: was her dad around too, or was she going to be waiting for that family reunion for a while yet? It really was important to know-- Sol’s presence tended to throw a wrench into things more often than not, and it wasn’t something she wanted to deal with now that she was dealing with it on her own.