"OH SHIT!"

It was late at night when Zarkon heard the scream of terror from the purple space kitty and bolted into the bathroom, mace in hand.

"What happened?! What's life needs to be taken?!" He asked frantically.

He had a confused look when he saw standing in from of a mirror with a black towel over her head, covering her hair.

"Nothing's wrong! Go away!" She said, although clearly frustrated about something.

"Nice try what's wrong?" Zarkon asked seriously.

"My beautiful flowy hair is bloody POOFY!" She sobbed and threw the towel off her head.

"So?" Zarkon asked.

"I prefer it flowy! It's been flowy for ten thousand and something years!" She whined.

"It's not bad at all on you, you're still beautiful." Zarkon said.

"Easy for you to say! You're bald!" Elara growled.

"Ouch..." He mumbled.

"I'm sorry... I'm going to go cry." Elara said and walked to bed, flopped onto it, and buried her face in her pillow. Zarkon put his mace away and therapist/emotional support turtle mode switched on.

"I know what I must do..."

Quite literally two hours later-

"You are a son of a gun..." Elara sighed.

"I need to sleep..." Zarkon panted, he himself did everything to get her hair back to how it was before, and he did not fail.

"Go ahead. You deserve it." Elara sighed.

Zarkon went full on smother mode and squeezed her in a tight cuddle hug.

"Can I bite your neck please?" He asked out if the blue.

"No?" She said.

"Why?" Zarkon pouted.

"I'm too tired to get up and clean off blood." Elara said.

"Seriously Elar-"

"Keep complaining and I won't reward you for helping me out." Elara threatened. Zarkon starting screaming at himself in his head.

'SHUT UP ZAKON! It's gawk gawk 3000 time...."