"Can't say I ever have, no," Douglas said in response to Diane's question as to whether he'd encountered natural blue hair. The mention of Michael's family having even weirder hair made his non-metaphorical eyebrow go up. Truth be told, he could imagine that kind of thing had gotten popular, but he was usually too busy to really notice.<br/><br/>Unconsciously, he ran a hand over his own hair. It was very plain, very normal. But it suited him, so he didn't mind it. During that time, Skrak had left, and with not much time left before the race began, he decided to part ways with the group well. "Welp, gotta finish up some stuff before I can get my machine runnin'. Good luck out there, you two." He gave a quick little two-fingered salute to Michael and Diane, then turned and headed back to his work station. A transport vehicle had dropped off a large storage box next to his car.<br/><br/>He approached the keypad on said box's far end, entering a code. The numbers were in a seemingly random string, but the sound each button made resulted in a small electronic tune being played as he unlocked the box. The keypad retracted, the front opened, and the top split in two and folded away.<br/><br/>Inside were two things: The robot he'd built to actually pilot his hovering vehicle, and a small clothing rack that held a sleeveless jacket, some fingerless driving gloves, and a helmet modeled after the head of the robot. He put the jacket on, zipped it up, and got the gloves on, then checked himself out in the reflection of the robot's leg. The jacket was one of the dorkiest-looking things possible: Frayed black leather, with a patch on the back. It looked like a skeletal hawk, outlined with flames.<br/><br/>Oh yeah. He was feelin' ready now.