Rose staggered into the ladies' room, eyes red-rimmed and her face flushed. She blinked in the harsh flourescent light.
"Who are you?"
The girl shreaked, spun around at the porcelein sink. A bushy, fake eyebrow swung half-fastened from her brow. She grinned, blushing.
"I - er - you," she spluttered. Blinked. "Nuthin'. Nobody."
Rose sighed, shook her red head. "Nevermind. I don't care." She turned, heels clicking, and entered the end stall. Click. It locks.
Archi Teuthis unfroze, shrugged, and spun back to the mirror to fix her disguise. Around her head is an Einsteinian halo of white frizz and her clothes are a tattered, torn, mud spattered cloak and spotted silk gloves up to her elbows.
She fixed her eyebrows. Nodded at the effect. Archi knows she really shouldn't be in a bar [or a story about a bar, whatever], but she couldn't resist. She probably did not need the disguise, it's not like Sly was going to check her Protagonize ID or anything, but, again, she couldn't resist.
"Hullo? Miss Red Head?" She tapped lightly on the anemic green plastic stall. "Do you know if there's a dead guy out there yet?"
A shocked hiccup from behind the door. "Why?" Why do you want to know and why are you asking me on the toilet?!
"Cuz I've got somethin' for him!" Archi scratched her wig. "He told me to bring my book and I did." She presents the ancient tome to the stall, which, obviously, Rose can't see.
Rose snorted. The sound echoes in the tile room. "He's out there, all right."
Archi saluted, "Thanks!" And scampered out the door.