Headband Origins


"Come on, Jack. We're just dying to know your secret..." Kelly leaned closer, her green-yellow eyes pleadingly wide as she stared intently at Jack's forehead and then into his eyes when she realized that bothered him more.

Chris had opted for the less subtle and more amusing tactic of clinging to his arm, hanging off it and snickering softly and maniacally where a proper arm-hanging girl would have found it appropriate to giggle. "Spill it," she threatened, "before we have to do something drastic, like start calling you Jackie-poo."

"Or sexy Sisco snuggly-wuggly," Kelly suggested, knowing full well alliteration only deepened Jack's despair, prolonging it with properly placed...things beginning with P.

Jack just looked slightly pained and leaned away from her, prying at Chris' fingers with his free hand. "You two," he hissed, "Are ruthless. Cruel."

"We know," Chris said. "So settle our bet before we have to prove we don't make idle threats." She tightened her grip.

"They're golf clubs," Jack started, reluctantly, cocking his head back to indicate his headband and attached weights. "Mizuno T-Zoid brand."

Kelly groaned. "Ugh. That's terrible."

Jack shrugged. "There's a reason I didn't want to say anything."


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