A grin appeared at his response, and she was about ready to keep the banter going when she focused, really focused, on David’s actions. Well, that was certainly a strange sight, head tilted in curiosity and a little bit of awe at watching herself laugh so openly and struggle so much to keep its composure. He was so cute. It didn’t matter what body he was in. Her smile turned into an amused smirk as she watched David stare at the floor in order to try to keep it together. Teenaged terrors in adult bodies, with mental notes passed back and forth and the most amazing game of Who Cracks Up First ever.
Which Sydney won, of course, but only barely this time. She couldn’t stop one smile or another if she tried, eyes crinkling in mirth while she tried to shrug off the laughter to the Loudermilks, faking innocence poorly. But then Cary-as-Kerry returned his attention back to her, and the person with wild, almost-auburn hair took a breath and tried to focus again. Syd nodded, thinking about what that meant exactly – or rather, how she could apply it exactly – then looked to her partner in crime and smiled wryly. “You heard the Cary; my mess to fix.” The statement was light, but the words pointed to a certain persona who liked to take matters into their own hands. It was her thing, so she had to be the one to figure it out.
The question was how. Okay. Trial and error, emphasis on the latter. It was okay if you failed, Sydney.
Hah. Easy to say, less easy to believe.
Fidgeting for a moment, she took David’s hand easily in hers and decided to first try what she had mentioned earlier. Think about the quirks and things done by the correct body. If she was a flash drive (sans any childish innuendos that could be pulled from that) then it would be like switching files, right? Or something. Swinging their hands idly, she began to think about being back in her own body, the feeling of her own hand through her own hair and the motion and sensation of playing with the ring still around her index finger. She even closed her eyes to focus more.
After a few minutes of not feeling anything change (new center of gravity or the like), she opened one eye and then the other and sighed. Failing was okay, she reminded herself. Why was it always easier to be encouraging to people who were not you?