“don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t exactly blend in.” (wanda)
“yeah? is it the hair?” it’s the first time she’s properly laughed in a long time. and maybe she deserves a laugh. they’re a few drinks deep, tipsy enough that her common sense is slowly going out the window & the comment doesn’t come as a shock. it always happens. but she’s laughing too hard, messily trying to tell her sister a stupid story while also trying to shove hummus on a chip, “i matched with this guy on tinder, right? he tells me: you’d look nice with your natural hair. and i’m sitting there thinking.. how do i tell him this is my natural hair? i didn’t and on our second date... he brought me a box of hair dye! i’m serious! and it wasn’t even a good brand! he brought the cheapest box of black hair dye he could find. men are insane.”