together.”
She nodded, and then groaned as another of Tripp’s
henchmen entered, brandishing scissors and a comb with a
flourish.
“Dead God, look at that hair! Have I got my work cut out
for me with you!”
The time had arrived for their first test. Taz and Up stood
in the luxurious travel ship Tripp had procured for the von
Tuppingtons’ arrival on Europa, waiting for the docking
procedure to complete so they could disembark. Taz,
feeling most unlike herself in a smart navy blazer and
pantsuit, twirled a strand of black hair around her finger.
Her stylist, Alejandro, had completely given up on Taz’s
own short, restless haircut and had pinned a wig of long,
shiny locks on her. It felt strange and heavy on her
shoulders.
“Stop fidgeting,” whispered Up. “You look great, Mrs.
von Tuppington.”
She looked up at him. Up still looked like himself, but a
cleaned-up, more dashing version. His silver hair had been
combed back and the scar across his left eye covered
carefully with makeup. He wore a grey suit with a slim
black tie, and a wedding ring flashed silver on his left hand
as he reached out and linked his arm with hers. He looked
quite - distinguished. “Let’s do this.”
They were ushered into the lobby of the Grand Europa
Hotel by bowing Jovian porters and escorted to the front
desk.
“Welcome to the Grand Europa,” said the purple-skinned
employee at the desk. “How may I help you today?”
“My name is Charles von Tuppington,” said Up, in a
crisper, more eloquent accent than was usual for him. “My
wife and I are here for the Galactic Ambassadors’ Ball and