[Backing out effortlessly into the street (she's had years of practice on this car, courtesy of not wanting to stay in the house), Elizaveta guiltlessly speeds down, happy to get away. Her temporarily dyed hair flies behind her, a sensation familiar of... Something at the back of her head.]
Something odd happened the other day... [She starts hesitantly, not sure how to bring it up.]
no subject
Something odd happened the other day... [She starts hesitantly, not sure how to bring it up.]