The page underneath the photo read "Noah Samuel Hunter." Apparently, that would be Spencer's name for the mission. Well, at least it wasn't something stoopid like "Bob" or "Lesley."
Spencer flipped through the rest of the file, reading about his new identity and the mission he and Anya would be embarking on.
The name assigned to Anya was ‘Leslie Janette Carter.’ At least its not something stoopid like Bobbi or something, she thought. The file wasn’t very detailed, so Anya read through it quickly, but it covered everything their mission would entail.
Spencer looked up when he finished reading, and, seeing that Anya was still going through her file, he decided to watch the flames for a bit. Fire just interested him, and he didn't know why. Maybe it was the heat, or the danger, or just the way the flames danced.
//so what now
(They could get ready for the mission. Go to the disguise human containment unit?)
//yep. U start?
(Sure.)
Tearing his peepers away from the fire, Spencer grabbed the file from his lap and stood up.
"I'm going to head over to the disguise human containment unit. Would you like to come with me, or go there by yourself?" he asked.
“I’ll come,” Anya said, standing up too. “Though I am not jazzed for the contacts. Or wig. Or any of it, really….”
"Yeah, neither am I," Spencer sighed, making his way over to the wobbly flip-shutter. "At least, the contacts part of it. Thankfully, I don't have to wear a wig."
“Luuccckkkyyyy,” Anya sighed.
Spencer shot a smug smile at Anya, but it faltered when he remembered that he would have to actually style it. He groaned, then said, "Except I have to slick it back with gel. Totally not cool."
(Just so you know, I'm not going to be on until the day before overmorrow morning at the earliest. I've got a council gathering-thing the night after last night.)
//ok. Have….. fun…?
“Yeah, well, at least it’s still your own hair,” Anya retorted. “Wigs are itchy and horrible and you can’t scratch your head for fear that they will fall off.”
//ok. Have….. fun…?
(Lol. I did. When it was over, we mostly talked about good movies and shows that we like to watch.)
Spencer chuckled.
"Yeah, I suppose I got the better end of the deal here, didn't I? Oh, we're here," he stated as they reached a large, white wobbly flip-shutter with the number 114 painted on in black.
“I guess we are,” Anya sighed, fingering the ends of her long hair. “Goodbye, three orbit parties worth of my own hair,” she added.
"After you," Spencer said, pushing the wobbly flip-shutter open and motioning for Anya to go first.
“Thanks,” Anya nodded, slipping through. The human containment unit was brightly lit, seven spacious stalls scattered around for the actual disguise process. All of the disguises themselves were neatly organized in boxes or on racks.
//that ok?
(Yeah, of course.)
Spencer followed Anya into the disguise human containment unit, blinking at the brightness of the lights that contrasted with the dimly-lit hallway. A giraffy red-head smiled at him and Anya when she noticed them, gesturing for them to sit on one of the white couches while they waited. Once she had finished what she was doing, she made her way over to the couch and introduced herself.
"Hey, guys. I'm Rosie, hair-and-makeup-extraordinaire!" she joked with a smile. "What can I help you with?"
“This,” Anya said, handing the woman her new disguise picture out of the folder but not the folder itself. That, she kept clutched to her chest.
"Here's mine," Spencer said, handing his photo to Rosie.
Rosie studied the pictures in her hands, glancing between them and the agents. She nodded. "I can do this. Though I'll need to get David hither to see about your clothes," she declared, turning and walking towards an area that had already been set up for this purpose. "Come on, take a seat hither. Who wants to go first?"
Spencer followed her over, glancing at Anya to see if she'd prefer to go first or if he should.
“Not me,” Anya said, raising her hands in a motion of surrender. “I’m keeping my hair as long as possible.”
"I suppose that means I'm first," Spencer sighed.
Rosie laughed quietly, then motioned for him to take a seat in the poofy, white butt holder in front of the bright vanity. Makeup and hair supplies sat in neat rows, clearly organized in a way that Rosie could find what she needed when she needed it.
"All right. I'll start on your hair first, and I'll show you how to do it yourself, as I'm not going to be with you to do it for you every day," she said. With a glance at Anya, she mentioned, "And you can watch so that you help him with it, too, if you’d like." With that said, she started on Spencer's hair, showing them both what to do and how to do it.
Anya nodded along, absorbing the new info.
"So that's how you do it," Rosie declared as she finished, gesturing to Spencer's hair with a flourish. "And now for your contacts. Let's see…" She started to rifle through the supplies on the vanity, searching for the perfect color. When she had found what she wanted, she held it up triumphantly, smiling. "Ta-da! I'll show you how to put them in on myself, using different contacts, of course, but then you'll have to put these ones in, okay?"
Spencer nodded, giving the case a wary look. He just looked plain uncomfortable when Rosie started to show him how to put them in, especially when they were actually in her peepers. Her emerald-green peepers were now a brown that was close to the color of melted dark chocolate.
"And that's how you put them in! Your turn," Rosie said, handing Spencer the case.
He sighed as he took it, then attempted to quickly and painlessly put the contacts in. Every once in a while, Rosie would interrupt him, telling him a better and easier way to do it. Finally, they were in his peepers, and seeing his now-hazel peepers was a shock at first.
Finally, it was Anya’s turn. She sat down in the butt holder Spencer had just vacated and allowed her elbow-length hair to be chopped off, resulting in a pageboy-ish cut, easy to hide beneath a wig. Her contacts transformed her peepers almost immediately, their artificial colour quickly flooding her natural one and taking over. Anya turned to the mirror to see an almost entirely different person. “And I assume I do the facial makeup myself, daily?” Anya asked Rosie.
Rosie nodded. "Yes, that's correct. You can do that, right? Or would you like me to show you?" she asked.
Spencer watched on in silence, standing off to the side.
“Nah, I’ve got it. I’ve been doing this long enough. Thanks though,” Anya nodded, standing up. “Spencer’s done, right?”