We could shave your head

Monday mornings were supposed to be the start of something productive.

For me, though, this one began with Layla pacing around her apartment, flipping her freshly dyed purple-streaked hair dramatically while I sat on the couch, sipping my coffee and watching the chaos unfold.

"It's not funny, Zaya!" she huffed, shooting me a glare that didn't quite mask the panic in her tone.

I raised an eyebrow, hiding my smirk behind the rim of my mug. "I didn't say it was funny."

"You're thinking it's funny," she accused, jabbing a finger in my direction.

"Well," I began, setting my mug down, "it is a little funny. You dyed your hair right before filming without considering that your character doesn't have purple streaks."

Layla groaned, flopping onto the couch beside me and burying her face in a pillow. "What am I supposed to do now? They're going to kill me."