"I...No, I didn't mean that. Started the Ranger a little surprised by the force in Lenna's reply, "I just meant it would be something to look into when there is time..." But borrowing a pair wasn't not an option.

The Ranger stepped over to where the pile of clothes lay and kneeled down to gather up the undergarments. S/He slipped on the panties, slid them up, then dropped the robe with his/her back turned to Lenna and tried to put back on the bra. Everything went fine except for the darn clasp. "I hate this damn thing... but I guess I'll have ta get use ta puttin' it on." The Ranger siged and then finally hooked it.

All that was left was the dress, s/he slid it on and reached back to tie the sash. Once again it began to look more like a knot. "Mind helpin' me again?"

Hmm? Lenna turned back to look at Michael. He was putting the dress back on, and having troubles. "Sure." She stepped forward to help out. This, she could handle. Lenna was good with knots. She'd picked up a lot of 'knot knowhow' working with the fisherman that came to the docks back in Cartagena when she was younger. Skipping out on self defense classes, you could learn a lot. A little knot-wrangling, a little knot-tying, and it was done.

Lenna took a step back, and looked at the now-dressed ranger. Everything looked in order. She rested her hands on her hips. "There. Now, you're all pretty... so what do you want to do next? I suppose it's getting late..."

As Lenna untied the knot that the Ranger had drawn the sash into and retied it into something more appropriate the Ranger said simply, "Thank you."

Lenna stepped back, the tying done and the Ranger turned to face her a spark poping off a his female scalp from the remnant of the water in the hair. S/He still felt weird standing there in a yellow dress.

"There. Now, you're all pretty... so what do you want to do next? I suppose it's getting late..."

"Uh...thanks, I guess?" Being petty wasn't something the Ranger was used to be called, and being in another person's body made that compliment a little odd."And, well there idn't anything I need to do... I've probably thrown your day off enough already, I'll jus' let you take care of your affairs before it gets too late."

"Okay." Lenna replied slowly. Aside from the cleaning of the kitchen, and the various jobs of tidying up around the apartment after that, she wasn't sure what else to do... "I just have the dishes... and maybe the vacuuming... and cleaning up the shower. After that... you sure you want to be off all alone right now?" She tilted her head, in an odd moment of compassion. "You really aren't throwing my day off any." Just frying the ever-living hell out of me with the recoil from a TASER, and disturbing my painkiller partytime. "I just have chores. They can be done any time... if you needed someone to talk to."

She paused. Was she really offering a listening ear?

Yeah. She supposed she was.

"I don't know... I have never been that big on talking." The Ranger stated, s/he didn't want to be alone but at the same time s/he did. This irresolution was unlike the Ranger, the body's hormones and the lowered charge were wearing away at his will.

S/He took a step toward the doorway of the bathroom, "I think I need to go sit down though, or at least get out of this room." The Ranger waved a hand slightly and said, "Out of the steam." S/He waited for Lenna to follow before stepping out, his/her hair was still damp and the steam was still concentrated enough to have some effect.

"Sure," Lenna replied silently. She swung a glance towards the shower stall to take in the damage, then followed the blond body out the door. If (s)he wanted to skip 'talking', far be it for Lenna to push. She let out a sigh as her mind changed its gearing towards house chores, then slipped down the hallway, and out into the kitchen.

A minute later, hot water was cascading into the sink. As she worked the suds into a casserole dish, Lenna pondered the day so far. Mars. ManLori. FemmeRanger. Voltage. Emotions.

Idly, she wondered why she'd been so moody earlier. She'd invited the guy/gal into her apartment out of the goodness of her heart, hadn't she? So why was she being such a bitch when it came to helping the lady out? First, the shower, then the underwear. Michael had been right to be a bit defensive about that, even if she honestly didn't want to share her undergarments with some guy she hardly knew... god, were her panties in a bunch there. So, why was she being so bipolar now?

Hrm... Lenna glowered at the casserole dish, and felt a dull throb in the back of her neck.

That's why. Must've been that. All that voltage... it must have triggered some sort of malfunction, further from the one she'd already been experiencing earlier that day. The after-effects of the failed operation in Paris. The doctors had been unable to fully remove the shock chip Cortez had forced into her neck. Now, it was dishing out headaches whenever she got mad... and she'd been running on fumes all day.

She lifted the casserole dish, and set it aside to dry, then moved onto the next plate.

Geez...

Having left the bathroom the Ranger made his/her way to the living room, it was where the bags and the his/her purse were left. The Ranger took hold of the purse strap and sat down on the couch. S/He then opened the purse and drew out the gun inside.

S/He didn't want to keep Lenna from the things she needed to do, even if she said they could be done whenever. Never put off until tomorrow and all that. The Ranger decided that to keep his mind occupied s/he could field strip and inspect the m1911. Hopefully these clumsy, wired hands could manipulate the smaller parts around the firing pin without breaking anything.

S/He ejected the magazine into his female hand and set it on the table in between the couch and the other side. The slide was then drawn back and the gun held upside-down allowing the chambered round to drop out. The round was caught and then set next to the magazine. Next, the recoil spring was depressed and the bushing rotated 90 degrees clockwise, slowly the pressure on the spring was released and the plug slid out. That was plucked out and set next to the magazine. S/He pulled back the slide an inch and then removed the slide stop, that out the gun was again inverted and the slide pulled off. The spring was removed from the slide and the bushing rotated counter clockwise as far as it could go and then the barrel bushed out along with the bushing.

Now the difficult part, the firing pin was depressed and the stop slid into place. Yet, the Ranger's female hands different dimensions left the rear of the firing channel incorrectly covered and it launched out and hit the couch. The Ranger sighed and retrieved the pin and spring. All the parts were set on the table and the Ranger stopped. S/he was having trouble with the mundane task of stripping a sidearm and not wanting to risk breaking anything s/he decided to not go any further.

The Ranger leaned back and rested his female head on the couch. S/He thought about the current situation, being in Lori's body and her running around in his. No guarantee they would find her and even if they did would there ever be a way to switch back. There was no intel on how it happened, only an assumption that something at King Pharmaceuticals could have done it but that was grasping at straws. And then the Ranger was hit by a wave of fear; He may never be himself again, instead he will be Lori forever.

His female eyes opened wide and breathing became quicker and frantic, s/he leaned forward and placed his female forehead in his female hands. The Ranger did not understand why s/he was reacting so emotionally. Before long tears welled up in his/her eyes and with them came electricity near the eyes. The Ranger was becoming hysterical, his mind couldn't process what was going on. Between the still alien hormones and the much lower charge the body had the brain was affecting how the Ranger's mind operated.

Before long tears were streaming down the Ranger's face and electricity bouncing around the streams like any other water that would touch the body's skin.

Gloved hands worked at the specks of hardened casserole on the last dish. Lenna's eyes narrowed as she focused on violently removing the obstinate little spot. Just a bit of elbow grease, and the furious scrubbing pads on each dainty finger were all it took. The fleck came free, and spun down the drain. Lenna rinsed the soap off the dish, and dried it with a towel. She set it on the drying rack, among the ranks of its brethren. She pulled the yellow gloves off her hands, and threw them to the side. She was finally finished. Lenna let out a thankful sigh.

Now, what was next on her list...? Her eyes traveled towards the living room.

Ah, yes... dusting... and vacuuming... wait. Is somebody crying?

Lenna paused. She strained her ears. From the living room area came the unmistakable sound of crying. A sigh escaped her.

Figures. Tough guy acting tough in a girl body, hiding tears within. Should she just keep doing her chores, or talk to him...?

Forget this. She was going to talk. She'd do the chores later.

Procrastination: It's deadly.

Lenna sauntered into the living room to stare at Michael, hand on her hip.

Trails of electricity went down the Ranger's face, they only revealed themselves as trails of tears when they dripped off and the electricity stayed behind. Small metal objects in the room began to move, not too much, just enough to show that the Ranger was losing control of the magnetic power this body had. The pieces of the disassembled gun moved closer than farther at variable speeds, they moved the most no doubt due to their proximity to the unstable magnet of a person.

The Ranger was oblivious to Lenna's entrance, between the blurring of vision from tears and the sparking of electricity at the edge of his/her eyes their wasn't much ability to see. Also, the Ranger was so focused internally that even if s/he had seen Lenna/ s/he might not have realized she was there. "Why...Why can't I stop...crying?!" The Ranger angrily questioned his/herself as the pistol pieces slid off the far side of the table.

His female hands dropped from his female forehead and each gripped the opposite arm. His mind whirled in a torrent of fear, anger, with a rising feeling of sorrow from the fear, and an increasingly lower charge and estrogen as a catalyst.

". . . because, maybe... you need to cry." Lenna replied.

". . . because, maybe... you need to cry."

The Ranger was surprised and at the same time ashamed. More than not wanting to cry is the desire to not let anyone see you cry should you ever actually cry. S/He raised his/her gaze to look up at Lenna. Need to cry. That went against what he had been taught to believe. It had been drilled into his head that crying is a sign of weakness and for most of his adult life the Ranger needed to have as close to no weakness as was humanly possible.

"...need to cry?" The Ranger asked as s/he attempted to wipe the tears off is female face. Thus causing electricity to spring out of the back of his right female hand, which was then rubbed against the couch to correct the mistake. "Wha...What good does crying... do? The wiped away electrotear streaks across the Ranger's face returned.

"Well, for starters..." Lenna slid down next to the blond on the couch. She turned to rest a hand around the man's womanly shoulders, then pulled the girl forward to ruffle his hair. "You're a woman. So, right now the stress is twice as hard. First, comes crying, then... ice cream." She looked off distantly towards the not-so-distant window. "Crying is an outlet so you can get out the emotions, and afterward, there's ice cream. So it's worth it. And you let your hair down."

She swung her head back to face him with serious eyes. "Don't ever think crying is a sign of weakness. I know they teach you that sort of stuff all over the place in America. I've seen it in movies." She shook her head with a derisive smirk. "Heck, my big sis Eliana taught me the same. But in the end, after everything's said and done... the emotions are still there, and the tears still come at night. You wanna know two of the best ways to deal with them?" Lenna looked Michael dead in the eye.

As Lenna's field passed over the Ranger, the electricity bleeding out into the tears lessened and the movement of metal objects in the room which had been slowly increasing all but stopped, some small objects continued to slide around. As she reached the couch she began to talk and then slid down next to him/her.

Lenna rested a hand around the Ranger's shoulders and then ruffled his/her hair. She then said, "You're a woman..." It was something the Ranger knew to be presently true but it was the fear of remaining one that was at the heart of his present breakdown. "...So, right now the stress is twice as hard. First, comes crying, then... ice cream."[/i]

"Crying is an outlet so you can get out the emotions, and afterward, there's ice cream. So it's worth it. And you let your hair down."

The Ranger never understood the whole ice cream thing. He knew people ate it for comfort food, but he had never eaten it for anything more than a nice cold desert. The Ranger normally dealt with anger or sadness by throwing punches, pumping iron, or even more common; squeezing off a few rounds.

Lenna then looked at the Ranger with a serious look and said, "Don't ever think crying is a sign of weakness. I know they teach you that sort of stuff all over the place in America. I've seen it in movies." "Heck, my big sis Eliana taught me the same. But in the end, after everything's said and done... the emotions are still there, and the tears still come at night. You wanna know two of the best ways to deal with them?"

Crying is not a sign of weakness, that thought was completely contrary to how the Ranger was raised and what was drilled into his head during his time in the service. He learned that tears got nothing done, wasted time and water that could be used to fix the situation or if it can not be be fixed justice can be rained down in a hail of lead with copper jackets on the one who broke it. And yet, Lenna's message seemed true too. Even if action is taken, the feelings don't go away.

The Ranger opened his female mouth to reply but couldn't, s/he cleared his female throat and tried again, "What are the...two best ways?" The Ranger asked as s/he again wiped the tear streaks off his female face now that s/he was within Lenna's field and the drain would be low. S/He of course wiped the tears off the back of his female hand onto the couch to stop the electric drain.

"You either shut up and cry about it, or you talk the tears away." Lenna locked eyes seriously.

She was tough on tears. It was part of her upraising. A 'tough on tears' policy. You either 'put up' and you 'shut up', or you dealt with your matters like a lady, and talked about it. That was what Eliana emphasized, even when she was telling Lenna to never let anyone see you cry. And that's what she learned for herself, after all was said and done in Columbia, and she'd run out of hope.

You put up with it. You shut up about it. Or you cry about it. Maybe you find someone to talk the tough times through with, because just airing them out seems to help. You don't, however, cry on her couch. Because Lenna had a 'tough on tears' policy, see? And this blond woman was a man. So, he could talk.

Manly talk.

And air out his feelings like a man.

She'd already offered to listen to him, hadn't she? He had two options now. He could either turn her down again, and get on her shit-list, or he could let her hear him out. The latter was the gentler method. Lenna could work gentle. If he chose the former, then 'vft'. Drawn line across neck with fingers. She wouldn't go easy on him. Because, tough.

She wasn't a humanitarian. And it was her house.

And if her actions and her words were conflicting, so what? Her collar was pounding in the back of her neck, and she was talking to a walking contradiction. She could contradict and be counter-intuitive all she liked.

Shut up and cry, or talk it out. If talking it out would work s/he would do that instead of just sitting there crying. Before s/he could do much talking the Ranger needed to calm his/her breathing, it was still a little frantic and shallow.

When the Ranger was a member of the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta he went through the Scout Sniper school at Marine Base Camp Quantico. Though he was not one of the snipers in his squad, but filling the role of spotter, he had the skill set. Among those was tactical breathing, which the goal of was to calm your breathing for a shot.

The Ranger took a deep "belly breath", breathing in for four seconds so deep that his/her belly expanded like a balloon. Held it in for four seconds, then exhaled over a four second period leaving the lungs as empty as s/he could, this was held for four seconds before the process was repeated. S/He took several of these breaths and each one was calmer and more controlled than the last. And finally when the Ranger's heart rate and breathing were controlled s/he began to speak.

"I'm afraid that even should we find Lori there's no guarantee we could find a way ta reverse this should we somehow manage ta gain intel regardin' how it happened, hell their's even the possibility that it cannot be reversed even were we ta find the cause. I'm angry at myself fer how I'm reacting to this. This idn't like me. And I don't just mean right now, but when Mars was around and even shortly after I ran across Lori in my body. It's like my mind just rides backseat to this body."

As the Ranger spoke his/her speech accelerated and breathing grew more erratic, and when s/he finished s/he had to go back to tactical breathing to gain control again.