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Zephiroth glowered at his reflection in the Audio headquarter's staff bathroom, his lip curling in disgust. He reached up towards his hair, pausing to peel off the yellow latex gloves and toss them aside. "This had better work," he growled at his reflection, narrowing his eyes to focus upon his hair. How long was he trapped in this "forbidden" area of the headquarters? It was easy enough to avoid the staff and their audio, but what if... What if they were aligned with them? The clingy, high-pitched squealing mobs and mobs of girls desperate to bask in his awe, or -- he shuddered and self-consciously brushed his sleeves viciously in order to get the feeling of being hugged off of him.

He replaced his paws with his gloves, taking a moment to retrieve his silver bracelet and slide it over his left glove. With luck, he would avoid the obsessive fangirls, and possibly get rid of them for good. Hell, it was worth staying in that bathroom breathing in the sharp stench of hair dye in order to turn his silvery locks... Wait, what color was it? It doesn't matter. It's a dark color, that's all that matters. He decided. Even though his coat was still the same, and his tail markings were there... Hopefully the hair would throw them off long enough to leave him alone.

Sadly, his sword Masamune was confiscated earlier in an incident that involved his self-defense against fangirls upset that he wasn't wearing green. They didn't seem that upset, though -- wasn't there a lot of squealing in the stampede towards him? Come to think of it, each one of them was wearing green... and clovers. What kind of a holiday was that?! He'd have to look into it later to prevent it from happening again, AND get Masamune back. He missed it already.

Zephiroth shook those thoughts aside and left the bathroom, taking his time to make it to the main public lounge. He breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of humans, and dropped into a seat to relax and wait for his hair to dry out.

It's not as if Zephiroth ever confessed or admitted to being evil. Hell, his real counterpart, Sephiroth, had a series of unfortunate events leading up to the initial burning of a city, then the torment of some spikey-haired thing. Or something along those lines -- Zephiroth didn't get a chance to read that particular book for long, as the power went out. He had lost the book somewhere between there and escaping the groping Audio and humans, not wanting to be accidentally stumbled into then squeezed in a fit of fangirlish glee. No matter.

Zephiroth wished that the hair dye he had purloined smelled better. Right now, he was nose-dead and soon the other Audio would start looking around for the source of it. A glare here and there with his teal eyes were enough to deter most of them, who quickly returned to their conversations with a gusto or to scurry out of the room. Damn. He'd have to get ready to bolt if a mob of them appeared. He didn't want a spell of permanent silence set on him to prevent his ability to cast spells inside the HQ against others. That would set him back terribly, and leave him vulnerable. The best thing he could do now was to play by their rules like some goody two-shoes hero and tough it out.

When Morgana spoke, he turned his head slightly towards her and studied her with narrow eyes. "Perhaps if it ever occurred to you to put something on instead of streaking around like a pup," he growled, "Perhaps I would consider your suggestion." That, and if he had a spare set of clothes, and wasn't attached to his coat as much as he was. "What's it to you, bratling? Considering using me as mayhem to bestow misfortune upon the masses desperate to get near me?"

Zephiroth curled his lip in scorn. "What makes you think I need your assistance?" He lifted his muzzle at her, and with the slight tilt of his head he was looking down at her, from a seated position. How rude! "However, I suppose you may have... some uses," he concluded, leveling his gaze at her to show they were on equal ground. "You have a point with your... preference of fur. Perhaps there is some use of you..."

He leaned back into his chair, looking thoughtful. "While the staff area may appear abandoned, there are in fact many working back there, adding the finishing touches to Audio -- most have pale or white fur, and they dye their fur to their new two-legger's request. Because of this, retrieving Masamune will be difficult, unless we can sneak back there. Are you with me so far, Soldier?"

Who knew how Audio came to be, save for the staff that had mastery and control over the headphones they came from? Zephiroth knew that if he removed his headphones, his color and clothes would fade away -- all that would be left would be a bald, naked, white Audio. Did Morgana know this? He hoped not, for she might suggest it and... well... He liked his coat. And his wing. Granted it shed black feathers all over the place when he flexed it, but it was the thought that counted.

At the mention of the dye, Zephiroth tilted his head forward to get a good look at it. "Meh," he admitted, shrugging and tossing his hair to further annoy Morgana with a waft of hair dye scent. "It's nothing a bottle of shampoo can't fix. If I am fit to go in..." He trailed off, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk, "You shall need to fit the part. What say you about darkening your fur to black?"

Zephiroth had spent enough time lurking in the staff area to know the general layout -- it was one of the places that none of his fangirls dared to venture. Even though he spent most of his time pawing through the books back there, he made sure to grab non-permanent dye -- the only question that remained was what color it would become. That particular part was covered by a smear of color that some unhappy Audio or staffer splashed upon it.

At her question, Zephiroth gave her a cold stare. "There are such things as clothes," he retorted briskly, "To end suggest that I would be interested in doing that to you is nothing more than a fangirlish fantasy that will never come true. Just dye your hands, feet and tail -- the rest can be covered up with fabric."

Zephiroth shook his head. "Ward? You do not know what foe I face against. They are... elusive, and prone to thoughts far beyond what you or I may think. And creative -- have you dared to see the horrors fans have made in 'worship' of me?" He shook his head and self-consciously brushed his sleeves, as if dirty. "Beware of the device known as "fan fiction" if you ever tread upon it -- it will leave a scar that festers and burns with its very name."

At her idea, Zephiroth gestured to the curtains. "There is white cloth. What more do you need? There are clothes available here, as well." A slow grin slowly grew on his muzzle. "You merely need to... ask the other fellow creatures here to borrow their's."

Zephiroth shrugged -- it was only a suggestion. He was somewhat hoping he would bite and do it, though. A ruckus like that would have brought a staffer out, which in turn would have allowed him to slip in and obtain what he needed. Getting out would be difficult, but he was patient. But now he missed his sword -- what else would protect him from the hordes of foaming, raving fangirls? The audio didn't care much for spellcraft. Glowing materia was the new Bat-signal to fan girls.

On top of that, Masamune was already taken from him. He didn't need to add anything else to the lock-bin. On top of that, it was easier to hide materia, and he did not want to spend night after night searching eBay for the rest of his collection if there's a break-in.

"There is dye in the bathroom," he replied, gesturing with a nod in the direction he came from. "What color it is or how much depends on which box you pick."

(( It's like the fast forward button on a remote! 8D Exceptitmovesframebyframe. ))

Zephiroth looked down his muzzle at her as she began to move off. "Female? I've seen bratty fangirls that act more female than you. If you wish to steal your own dye then go ahead -- I've already done half the work for you."

As soon as she was inside the restroom, Zephiroth began wondering if he made a smart move by inviting her into the party agreeing to work with her. She wasn't like the other females he knew, and yet his instincts were screaming at him that something was wrong. He narrowed his teal eyes and tilted his head forward, carefully grasping a length of his formally silver hair to study it critically. It was dark, but... Was there a tint of color?

He looked up when she crept out of the bathroom. "Expecting something to randomly ambush you?" He asked dryly, taking the opportunity to lean against the wall in order to watch the planned entrance: the hallway leading into the staff-only area.