The coming advent of spring offered warmer weather, and Ochre was glad for it. Only once in his Negaverse career was he allowed pants, and sometimes Ochre wondered if his transgressions against Negaverse ideals cost him that privilege. Now he spent much of his patrols stopping frequently to hike up his stockings or readjust his coat to cover the goods. These days, he found that warmer temperatures cut him something of a break when considering his comfort levels. Goosebumps were no longer visible at four feet away.

But the warmer weather was not a cure-all, he found - his nose still bled freely and his head still pounded despite his absence of allergy symptoms. Lately Ochre took to patrolling with wads of tissue paper lodged inelegantly in his nostrils, and expected the world to stomach the sight. Doing so forced him to breathe through his mouth, which only worsened his external image. Still, Ochre didn't care; the Negaverse expected him to do a job, and while he wasn't his brother, he could meet those standards so long as he wasn't pouring blood down the front of his uniform. If nothing else, the tissues drew attention away from his lack of pants and toward the dysfunction of his face.

Secondarily, Ochre discovered that strangers were more apt to ask him if he was doing okay, assuming they failed to spot the gaping head and chest holes. And some failed to notice even that, with the two white tissues poking out so defiantly from his nose. One woman came so far as to inquire about his health before he quickly drained her into unconsciousness. A man came afterward to remark about it and suffered a similar fate, so he retired the pair to a nearby bench and went on his way absent starseeds.

And his head hurt all the more for it, but whatever. He could pop Advil later.

Ochre knew he needed another starseed, however, to replace the one lost in a previous battle; he often detested starseed pulling for the commotion it caused, however. Browsing the less affluent streets, he scouted a number of victims suitable for starseed ripping that might not leave an article in the newspaper a day later. The best and brightest candidate in particular lay piss-drunk outside of a dive bar, where his lips met the pavement. A slow pool formed beneath his mouth and low snoring cued passersby to his state as one still living. No one seemed to care when Ochre approached him, either.

So with a hand on the stranger's chest, Ochre pressed inward, found the starseed he was looking for, and drew it outward in one short, anticlimactic motion.

noir songbird
hope this works for aoki stumbling in on him!