"Panny!"
She turned away from Bra, picking her boot back up. She tried not to notice Trunks, who stood like a statue with rigid shoulders and no emotion on her face, but she couldn't help it. She almost blamed herself, but she didn't know if he was just startled by her tattoo like everyone else, or if he really was afraid of her father, like she'd accused him of being that morning before he'd taken her home.
"Yes Daddy?"
"Come here."
She bounced back up the stairs as ordered.
"What, Little Girl, is this?" he demanded, pointing at her right arm.
She shrugged and looked down at her shoulder.
"A tattoo."
"Pan..." he warned.
"A marking on the skin made by thousands upon thousands of tiny needle pricks with needles containing inks, and that is permanent for life."
"Pan..."
"Very expensive in the states only because of health precautions."
"Pan..." his temper was running short.
"Very painful by human standards, annoying by Saiyan."
"PAN!"
She laughed and sat down on the stairs, tying the boot already on, setting the other next to her.
"Daddy, a friend of mine that I made in Cali had a dad who owned a tattoo parlor. His dad was a pretty respectable guy, and really paranoid about disease and stuff. I knew that his business was clean...and I was really down for a few days after I'd been settled for a few months, and I decided I needed to change. So I got the tattoo one night after a party, and the next morning, decided to think of it as a way to forget, and to remember."
"Pan?"
She laughed at her father's lack of vocal eloquence.
"It's the four star dragonball Daddy, the one Grandpa always thought was Great-Grandpa Gohan, and the one that I like to think is him now. I got the tattoo so that no matter what I do or what I become or anything like that, I'll never be able to forget any of that, of Grandpa, or of what all of us have ever done for the dragonballs, or each other. And it helps."
"Really." His tone was disbelieving.
She almost laughed out Daddy! You learned a new word!, but didn't feel like getting smacked or chastised. But she did laugh. "I don't scream at the word 'dress' anymore, do I?"
"No, but you do scream at the sight of it."
Pan glared at her mother and grandmother.
Boots on now, she threw the hem of her skirt over her feet and stood up. With a practiced motion, she swept her hair off of her neck, missing two chunks by the sides of her face. She quickly pulled the hair into a tight and simple bun at the back of her head, and tied it in place with the bandana she had had in her cargo pocket, using it as if it were a ribbon. While everyone watched, she grabbed the two chunks by her eyes, and held them out in front of her, eyeing them quickly, before wrapping them around her pointer fingers, holding them by her face.
Her ki flickered momentarily, and she dropped her hands back to her sides. The two chunks fell softly into place, each a perfect ringlet.
"How'd you do that?" Bra murmured, awe-stricken.
Pan laughed, trying to get the rest of the bunch to lighten up. From the look of it, Trunks just wanted a bed and a beer. Vegeta was indifferent as always, but was smirking approvingly from her transformation of ki into curling iron. Bulma was focused more on her son, she seemed troubled for some reason.
Her mother and grandmother were nodding approvingly at her appearance, behind her, her father was beaming with fatherly pride.
"Bra, it's amazing what you can learn when you're drunk. Now come on, let's get this banquet over with before Trunks dies with nervousness." She hurried out the door with her blue-haired companion as Trunks stiffened, and her words registered in her father's head.
"DRUNK!?!!?"