Three days passed.

Colt was on his way home. He was torn between the joy that it would soon be the weekend, and the fact that he would have to spend this weekend with Shelly.
It wasn't so much the fact that she was a thug that bothered him, it was her character. She was insufferable.
Arriving home, Colt parked his vespa and knocked three times on the door before giving a fourth.

No answer...
Did she left ?

'Impossible, this morning again she had trouble standing up for long', reasoned the policeman before entering.

He put his keys at the entrance and took off his shoes. Kit came over to say a quick goodnight before heading out for a night hunt.
Good.
At least, she had fed the cat.

"Shelly ? I'm back !"

Still no answer.

The redhead  quieted himself and pricked up his ears. He heard musical notes escaping from the upper floor.
On the lookout, he quietly climbed the stairs, slowly pulling out one of his revolvers. The higher he climbed, the more distinct the music seemed to him.

A fast Spanish beat, probably coming from his radio, a voice accompanied it. Upstairs, he followed the notes, which led him to the bathroom.
Arriving behind the door, he listened more attentively. The singing voice was a female voice. He recognized Shelly's voice.
He sighed with relief.
He had thought for a moment that someone had broken into his house and hurt her.

But heh, what a stupid idea !
Shelly would probably have killed the slightest intruder.

While sorting through his thoughts now that the stress had subsided, he opened the door.

"Hey Shelly, I just wanted to say I'm ho-..." he said while pushing the door on its hinges.

Though he clearly wasn't expecting what was in the bathroom.
His eyes widened in surprise. Her black hair, for once, released. Her hauled skin bare. Shelly only wore her jeans and bra.

Colt felt his cheeks heat up. In fact, the temperature of the whole room had just risen several degrees.
And everything happened in slow motion. Shelly turned, her eyes also wide with surprise. A fraction of seconds later, the first object that came to hand was hurtling towards Colt as the bandit had a murderous expression on her face.
At the quarter turn, the cop closed the door. A snap announced that the brush Shelly had thrown at him had missed its target.

Leaning against the wall, one hand over his mouth, the policeman slid to the ground. He stayed there for a long time, thinking... What he had seen simply wouldn't leave his memory. But among all the things swirling around in his red head, one assertion remained stable.
Shelly was dying her hair. Now he was seeing her again : a brush in hand with latex gloves. She was using his old black dye material.

Colt frowned. It had been a while since he himself had touched his hair dye equipment, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to throw it away.

He finally got up wondering what was the true color of the bandit's hair, and especially why did she prefer to have black hair ? A lot of other thoughts, questions and all sorts of things went through the young policeman's head as he went down to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

The rest of the evening was miserable. Between Shelly leaving comments on anything and everything, the news announcing terrible weather for the weekend, Shelly making insinuations about voyeurism and Kit who kept going back and forth between home and garden, Colt was at his wit's end.

The policeman went to bed in a very bad mood, still hoping not to get up angry the next day.