The Prince stared up the tower at her. He held his Stetson firmly to keep it on his head. The wind billowed out his red cloak, exposing his leather armor. Although clearly it had once been expensive, battle and the elements had taken their toll. The bright yellow utility belt that carried his weapons and tools featured a distinct black bat insignia at its buckle.
“All right, Blondie. Toss it down and I’ll be right up.”
The Prince let out a muffled oomph as four pounds of fine, blonde hair hit him in the face. He pushed it out of the way, grabbed two giant handfuls, and began his ascent. A few feet up his grip slipped and he fell back to the ground, landing on his rump.
“Hurry! I’m going to die from long hair!” the Princess yelled down at him.
“Would it kill you to use a little less conditioner?” he mumbled back up at her. He removed his gloves before his second attempt and found his bare hands gave him a much better grip. This time he scaled the eighty foot tower with ease, in true hero fashion, quickly arriving at the window. He tumbled inside and paused for a look.
He noted that the Princess had tied her hair off to a post in the small chamber rather than carrying all of his weight on her neck. Sensibility. Most princesses lacked it, which made him appreciate it all the more in his sister. She’d even tied it well.
“Nice knot –” he began. The frying pan racing toward his face interrupted him.
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