TF: Unexpected Red 4 (old and bad)

>At least you seem to be able to drive okay. All the same, you drive slow, just in case.
>You try switching on an audiobook to get your mind off things, but it doesn't work.
>Something is obviously very wrong with you. First the hair, then the memory loss, and now loss of motor control in your fingers?
>You drum your fingers on the steering wheel, making sure they still work.
>Maybe not loss of motor control, but they certainly feel less dexterous.
>Maybe you had a minor stroke or something? Perhaps while you slept?
>That didn't explain the hair.
>It could explain everything else though. Maybe you did dye your hair, and just forgot about it.
>You clench your teeth together.
>This could be really serious.
>Life threateningly serious.
>So why don't you care as much as you think you should?
>You're still driving towards the restaurant where you're meeting with Lizz.
>You do a quick mental evaluation, and realize you have no intention of changing course.
>Why?
>You really can't come up with a rational answer to that question. This begins to frustrate you in a major way.
>Why are you so determined to go ahead with something that seems to trivial in light of your obvious need for serious medical care?
>You grip the steering wheel and snarl at yourself. It wasn't as though your body wouldn't obey your commands.
>Far from it, you just truly don't want to go to the hospital. You just didn't feel like it was a big deal.
>But that was fucking stupid! Of course it was a big deal, this is obviously a big deal! You could die from this for all you knew!
>Nope. No change.
>You give a great sigh and tighten your grip on the steering wheel. You notice that the audio book has been playing in the background all this time.
>You grimace an turn it off.
>Finding the point where you stopped paying attention to the book is going to be a pain.
>You've got this priorities shit DOWN.

>You get out of your monster truck of a car, stretching gratefully.
Gods that feels good.
>You pull out your phone and check the time. You've still got a good twenty minutes to kill before Lizz is supposed to show up.
>You walk off the blacktop and onto the concrete sidewalk that surrounds the restaurant. You got a good parking place. Odd that there weren't many people around here on a Saturday night.
>You lean on the front of your car. It was times like these you wish you smoked, at least you could look like you were doing something.
>But you don't really mean that. That would be stupid. You have to admit you always liked the smell of burning things though.
>You entertain yourself with memories of your brothers hookah parties that you sneaked into when you were sixteen. Those were fun.
>You are broken out of your reverie by pain shooting through your feet.
Ow.
>Your feet appear to be cramping.
Ow ow ow ow ow ow.
>You hop up onto the hood of your truck, slipping the shoe off one of your feet.
>You were just standing there, no reason to get cramps. It wasn't as if you were wearing high heels or anything.
>You suck air in through your teeth as you massage the arch of your left foot. That does not feel good. At all.
>You wonder if you should have dressed up more.
>You were never really a fan of fancy clothing, but for some reason your jeans and tight t-shirt didn't seem adequate tonight. What if Lizz got all dressed up?
>You didn't want to feel underdressed. Or worse, make her feel overdressed.
>Why this thought occurs to you at now of all times is unknown to you. You always dress casually on dates with Lizz. It's never been a problem before.
>Still, you worry you might have messed up somehow.
>Geez, you feel like it's your first date all over again.
>You stifle a blush at the memory.
>"Having trouble?" A familiar voice calls to you from off to your left.
>You jump in surprise, nearly sliding off the hood in your shock.
>"Woah! Careful there!" She's smiling, but you can tell she's worried.
Lizz!
>You want to hug her, but that would require an acrobatic maneuver that your not entirely sure you're capable of.
>That doesn't stop you from leaning forward with intent in your eyes for a moment before realizing it though.
>You can tell she noticed, and her smile turns into a grin.
>You'd feel embarrassed about that, but you have more important things to do.
>You slide off the hood, not even bothering to put your other shoe back on, and embrace her. Probably more tightly than you should have.
>She grunts, having a bit of trouble breathing but returning the hug none the less.
>You realize what your doing and let her go, smiling from ear to ear.
>"A bit enthusiastic are we? I haven't been gone that long have I?"
Long enough.
>"You dyed your hair." She says, then pauses, taking a closer look "Really damn well I might add, it looks fantastic."
>Your smile falters slightly at the mention of your mysterious hair job. Only for a moment. You don't think she noticed. Now was really not the time to worry about this.
Yeah, it came out much better than I was expecting.
>You feel your gut wrench as you lie. At least you think you're lying. You suppose you could unknowingly be telling the truth. This line of reasoning doesn't really make you feel any better.
>Lizz looks down at your feet, then back at you with a quizzical expression.
Oh, yeah. That. My feet were cramping.
>You balance yourself on one foot for a moment as you slip your shoe back on.
>"Oh." She looks concerned, but still slightly confused. "Why?"
>You pause, but decide to go with the truth this time.
I have no idea.
>She stares at you for a moment, then shrugs. "Alright. Shall we go then?" She turns towards the restaurant and gestures extravagantly; like she's a magician showing the audience something sure to amaze.
>She does that sometimes. You like it.
After you.
>She gives you a humoring look and drops her pose, heading towards the entrance.
>You needn't have worried about being underdressed. Lizz is wearing shorts and a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. They fit her rather snugly.
>You find yourself staring.
>Through some superhuman sense she notices, and throws a look over her shoulder.
>"So is this why you wanted me to go first?"

>The waiter seats both of you at a booth when Lizz specifically requested it. She taught that trick to you a while back. If you don't actually ask for good seating, they tend to give you the bad ones.
>Of course, sometimes that doesn't work when the place is crowded, but business was slow tonight apparently.
>You ask for some diet coke and water for your drinks. Lizz just gets water.
>You're glad you picked an Italian place yesterday. You feel a bit queasy at the the idea of a steakhouse or something. You really don't want a repeat of this afternoon.
>You and Lizz chat while you go over the menus. Mostly inconsequential small talk. She talks about college and her classmates, about boys trying to hit on her.
>You both always get a kick out those stories. You've even had it happen to you a few times, though not nearly as often as Lizz. Mostly because you don't go out in public regularly like she did.
>You will forever treasure the look on one of their faces when you told him you were gay. Normally you'd just politely decline such advances; feeling slightly flattered. But he was being so persistent.
>Technically it wasn't true either, you appreciated a good dick as much as the next girl. He didn't need to know that though. You were perfectly satisfied with another woman anyway.
>Still, you feel kind of bad for the guy.
>"Are you two ready to order?"
>The waiter is standing behind you to your left, and his sudden appearance startles you. Your leg twitches reflexively, bumping against the table.
>Luckily nobody seems to notice.
>"Yes, actually." Lizz says and looks at you. "You?"
>You pull yourself together.
Yeah, I'm ready.
>She nods, and looks back to the waiter. "I'll have the Penne with Italian sausage, please." She hands him her menu.
>The waiter scribbles something down on his pad and turns to you.
The Fettuccine Alfredo, please.
>He smiles professionally and thanks you both before walking away. You think you glimpse a knowing look in his eye, but you can't be sure.
>"Feel like something basic, hmm?"
>You look back at Lizz. she's really pretty.
Yeah, my stomach hasn't been nice to me today.
>That was true enough, if not a massive understatement.
>You didn't think Fettuccine Alfredo would mess with your digestive tract too much. Besides, most of the other meals had meat in them. You can feel your stomach doing little flip flops just thinking about it.
>You really don't think you'll ever eat bacon again.
>You munch on a bread stick while you wait, wondering how many calories this meal would be.
>Probably a lot, but if you were worried about that you shouldn't have come to an Italian place.
>It strikes you that this is a rather mundane thing to worry about, considering the day you've had.
>It's almost enough to make you laugh.
>"What's funny?" Asks Lizz, flashing you her dazzling smile.
Uh.
>Think!
Just remembering something from work yesterday.
>"Oh? Do tell."
>Relieved to have something to talk about, you recount your recon mission from yesterday; telling her about the kid, the disgusting and overgrown property, and how you got your hips stuck trying to get through the doggy-door.
>Many innuendos were made on both sides.
>After a bout of laughter, you try to make your tone more serious; failing miserably
Seriously though, checking out new houses is always a little scary. I do my best to make sure its uninhabited before breaking in, but you never know when somepony might be squatting there.
>Lizz's smile turns a bit confused. "Some what?"
Squatters. They might be drug addicts or something-
>You stop as Lizz shakes her head. "No, I know what squatters are, before that."
>You think for a moment, adopting a puzzled expression. You find it hard to believe you knew a word Lizz didn't she wanted to become an author after all. Uninhabited? No. Maybe she misheard you? Breaking in might sound weird if you said it too fast.
What did it sound like?
>"It sounded like you said somepony." She's grinning at you, like this is some kind of joke.
>You did say that, what was wrong with the word 'somepony'? People use it all the time. Right?
>Wait.
>Somepony?
>That doesn't make any sense. Why would the word 'pony' be tacked onto the word 'some'? And why would that word be used to describe a person? You hadn't exactly studied English very much, but you know enough about basic word structure to know that does not compute.
>So if that word wasn't correct, what was? Someperson?
>Fuck, you're forgetting words now, and replacing random parts of words with random other words. And you're not even realizing your doing it.
>Somepony? Seriously? What the fuck?
>Holy shit you're going mad.
>Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
>Lizz is picking up on your distress. She reaches out across the table and pats your hand, speaking in a reassuring tone. "Hey, It's okay, I don't mind."
>You manage to pull yourself out of the beginnings of a panic attack to pay attention.
What? Mind what?
>She giggles "I don't mind that you watch that show. In fact it's kinda cute you let that slip. No need to freak out on me."
>What? What show? What is going on?
What show?
>She give's you an incredulous look and shakes her head, still smiling. "Denying all knowledge, huh? Alright, we can play it that way. I heard nothing."
>You begin to consider the idea that may be completely batshit insane.
>Then your food arrives. It is delicious.