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His suit had arranged itself into an unflattering mess of chartreuse and brown. The brown had localized itself to his pants and dress shirt, not even bothering to use itself as a complement to anything else. Juniper lined his seams and ringed his wrists, creating a green-on-green for his top half that made him feel very much like a tree, with his mahogany pant legs becoming his trunk. It was by far his worst look in ages, and he adamantly refused to ever forgive his randomizer for settling on it.
He had flipped open the small compartment on the front of his telly-head and had his thumb on his color slider when his gaze fell upon his Hero.
Her eyes, always wide with wonder or excitement or curiosity, had somehow gotten larger, and a cartoonish grin of excitement took up the other half of her face. Assok was mimicking her expression with a wide-mouthed smile, though RGB couldn't be sure if they truly shared the emotional reaction or if Assok was just acting as a sock-shaped mirror to Hero.
"You're green!" gasped Hero, rocking from her toes to her heels and clapping her hands together. "I love it!"
RGB's hand froze upon his sliders. His fingers curled away, paused, and then he flipped the small compartment shut. He straightened his spine and his bowtie (which was a painfully bright lime), clearing his nonexistent throat.
"Well," he said. "I suppose it's not too hideous. Besides, at the rate I keep having my circuits overloaded, I'm sure it won't stay this way for long." He glanced over to see Hero's glee magnify. "Just this once, mind! Next time I'm choosing my own color scheme."
"That's okay," said Hero, bouncing on her toes a bit as she took in the full glory of his new outfit. "Heroes wear green."
His hand curled about the hem of his jacket and he tugged at it, as if hoping to pull the color off.
"Right. Well, I do suppose we've dilly-dallied here for long enough. Come along, Hero, we've a long way to go!"
It wasn't on purpose. At least, that's what he told himself. His colors usually arranged themselves, and he had very little input on the matter unless he decided to manually adjust himself, and who had time for that when there was a world that needed saving?
What did he care if the palms of his gloves were a light mint, or if his bowtie and lapels shared the same color of a fresh pear? He certainly didn't plan to make the lining of his coat a subtle moss, or the seam-lines of his jacket a deep emerald.
His main colors were the important ones, anyway, and they always seemed to stick to any number of tasteful hues and complements. He saw many color-changes in the days, the weeks, the immeasurable and unreliable time that passed with his Hero, but each time they changed he saw her eye him when he thought he wasn't paying attention, find the touch of green, and nod to herself in satisfaction.
It was better if he pretended not to notice.
Green was never his favorite color. In fact, he'd always been wary of it, and tried his darndest to avoid any association with the hue. Mostly due to how rare it was, now, but then again it had always been rare for him.
There was a severe absence of green in this dying world. He'd known this for longer than he'd liked, and had accepted it. Madras always paid best for greens, and raked in the most profit for them. His green was used sparingly; was hoarded and kept inside, was discouraged in-case it might be the last time it ever saw the light of day. Green was impractical. Green was frivolous. Green was limited.
Blue, however, he had in abundance.
He looked out upon the Lake of Tears, his mind wandering to the way ahead. He watched the still surface of the water for any sign of black beaks or scratches of bony shoulder blades that might break the surface, knowing now just how far the Fears had come and how bold they could be.
Beside him stood a girl in a fleece jacket, worn above a floral nightgown.
This Hero was older.
No, not older. Older implied that there was anything to compare against. Comparisons were something he did his best to never begin, as they never seemed to end once one started. Once one got into matters of 'older', that opened up all sorts of other unpleasant comparisons such as 'kinder' or 'meaner' or 'taller' or 'might possibly make it further'.
Her hair had a habit of falling into her eyes. It was at the length that was too short to tuck behind her ears, but long enough to be constantly a nuisance. He'd seen her consider grabbing a number of bobby-pins to shove into her pocket before they'd left, but she had foolishly decided against it and seemed now to be regretting that decision. She tried to brush her bangs aside to get a good look at the lake, but the moment she removed her hand they fell again, blinding her.
RGB sighed, removing his jacket and draping it carefully across a bush.
"Come here, Hero," he said, beckoning her as he took a knee. One hand went to his bicep, hesitated, then swiftly untied a shamrock ribbon. His sleeve drooped, but he elected to ignore it as he carefully - making as little physical contact as possible - tied the ribbon around the girl's head, fashioning the ends into a small bow at the top. She stood perfectly still as he worked, and once his hands fell, hers reached up to examine his handiwork with her curious fingertips.
"It is yours, it is you," he spoke. "I'll tell you your lines in a moment. If you elect to keep it, that is"
She stepped away, leaning over the Lake of Tears to gaze at her reflection, turning her head from side to side to see better. A small smile graced the face of her reflection. She looked back at RGB, the smile sticking to her non-reflected face as well. "Can I?"
"Of course. Though you must say 'it is me, it is mine' for it to stick."
"It is me, it is mine," she repeated dutifully.
"There you are," RGB said, smiling through a torrent of blue. "I'm told Heroes wear green, you know."