The Storm

"Mohinder! Mohinder!  It's too much!" the little girl protested from her bedroom after one of her adoptive fathers (paper work having gone through thanks to Matt's singular talent) nearly tackled her to rub sunscreen into her fair skin.  "I can't breathe!  It's in my nose!"

Mohinder more or less ignored her cries, rubbing more of the white cream into the areas behind her ears.  "You'll thank me when you're not a lobster tomorrow."

"But we're wasting time!  Matt's already pulled up the car and packed it!"  She might be young, but that didn't mean she wasn't already imagining herself like the girls on the Disney Channel with tanned skin and sun-bleached hair.  It'd started with lipstick and red nail polish and a two piece bathing suit he'd given into only because he's force her to wear a little jacket when not in the water.  And a hat.

"He'll wait for us," Mohinder said as he clucked his tongue, dressed in white shorts and an orange collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, though left open with his chest bare beneath.  He had on a pair of sandals too, certainly looking ready for the beach.  If only Molly would cooperate!

"And if he doesn't?"

"We'll think of a proper punishment.  All right, there you are, bring a change of shoes in case the car gets too cold on the drive."