"Oh, yes, she would! She's like a five year old in a grown woman's body!" Jon exclaimed further, though he really wasn't sure what exactly Juno was. All he knew was she had become a woman in less than a year and that just wasn't natural. As a matter of fact, he and Juno got along pretty well, as far as their professional relationship went, but on a personal level, Jon felt had always felt a little awkward around his best friend's adopted daughter. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, summoning his patience, despite the hormonal war that was waging inside him. "What's done is done. What we have to figure out now is how to reverse it. Can you take us to the magic shop?"

"Well ....no, not today," 'Taya told Vicki quite earnestly, before rolling her eyes and transferring her gaze to Jon in Vicki's body. "God, this is confusing ....I have to call in Malcolm and get the costume fitted again and sort out the announcement that you're not going to be on for at least two days and all the dress rehearsal stuff, you know that." Before either of them could explode at her again, however, she waved a hand, pulling a pen from her bag and grabbing a random envelope from the stack of post on the table beside her. "Look, I'll give you the address. Just, just take the little charm thing with you, I'm sure she'll know what?s happened. I mean, she's gotta, right' She did it!"

"Jesus Christ," Jon swore under his breath in Vicki's voice as he laid a hand across his eyes. "It's opening night! Why'd she have to do this now" I swear to God, the next time I see Juno..." He broke off suddenly, knowing it was an idle threat. Jon wasn't the violent type and would hardly hurt a fly. Though he had been pushed to violence several times, it wasn't naturally in his nature. He dropped the hand from his face and looked over at Mataya as she scribbled the address on someone's mail, hopefully not Humphrey's, a look of panic on the pretty face he was borrowing once again. "Holy sh*t! Liv!" he exclaimed, dropping his feet to the floor and attempting to move to his feet, but failing.

"Liv, what about Liv?" Vicki frowned over at her husband, laying a hand on his arm to keep him from trying too hard to get up fast and passing out instead. "Will you stop throwing me around like that' You're going to give me an embolism!" Across from them, 'Taya had paused in her scribbling, looking up as very Jon sentiments spilled from what looked like Vicki's mouth. Her lips twitched again, this time failing to contain the smile. "Vicki, you have a potty mouth so long as he's in there." "And you can stop smirking and all," was Vicki's response to that comment, pointing one of Jon's fingers at 'Taya threateningly.

"An embolism," Jon echoed in Vicki's voice, looking perplexed. "I'm not going to have an embolism," he assured his wife in a stern tone, turning a questioning glance to Mataya and mouthing silently, "Embolism?" He obviously had no clue what his wife was talking about. His expression darkened when he noticed what looked like amusement on Mataya's face, and he pointed a finger at her, finally getting his head straight and taking charge of the situation. "You, call Liv and tell her I'm sick. I'm supposed to meet her at the theater for dress rehearsal." He turned to the all-too-familiar man at his side. "You, get me a pair of comfortable shoes and then get the car. We're going shopping." To a magic store, no less.

A little less than an hour later, Liv had been told Jon was taking a couple of days off, Jon was wearing a pair of Vicki's most comfortable sneakers, and Vicki was behind the wheel of Jon's beloved Bentley, guiding the car through Rhy'Din's winding streets toward the little cutaway Mataya had directed them to. "Will you please stop wincing every time I make any kind of maneuver, love?" she asked, careful not to upset her hormonal husband any more than she had already today. "I do know how to drive, you know."

"We should have taken your car," he said, trying not to wince as she cut a particular corner close, his beloved Bentley swerving just a little. "Jesus Christ, Vic. Do you know how much this car is worth?" Which led one to wonder why he had bought it in the first place - to drive or to admire. In truth, it was a little of both. It was the first major purchase he'd made for himself after his father had died, but he didn't remember that any more than he remembered anything else that had happened before the shooting. He held a hand out toward the dash to steady himself, despite the fact that he was wearing a seat-belt. "You know..." He started with a frown, the hormones kicking in again. "If you really loved me, you'd get me a pickle."

"Darling, if you mention pickles one more time, I am going to shove one where the sun does not shine," Vicki informed him through an irritated frown. It was bad enough he was criticizing her driving without attempting to give her body severe heartburn for the next several hours. "Try exerting some self-control." She glanced down at the envelope 'Taya had written the address on where it lay perched on the male thighs she was really hoping she never had to get used to. It wasn't so much the thighs as what resided between them that was giving her trouble. But then again, she now knew the answer intimately to the age-old question - was Jonathan Granger a leftie or a rightie" "We're almost there."

"In my body or yours?" he countered, glowering at her, in an ill-tempered mood already and being denied the one thing that felt like it would make it all better. "It's taking all the self control I have not to scream," he muttered under his breath, turning a glance toward the window and chewing on her thumbnail, considering a manicure. "How about olives" Can I have those?" he mused, as he watched the scenery, idling wondering what would happen if she really did shove a pickle where it didn't belong. It was sort of the right shape and size, but then the thought of sex, even with a pickle, was somehow disgusting.

Jon's chiseled jaw set hard as Vicki bit her tongue, forcing herself not to react to the near constant whining coming from her own mouth. She promised herself she was never going to complain about anything ever again once she got back into her own body, on the proviso that Jon stopped talking about bloody pickles. She pulled the Bentley to a halt rather sharply, and killed the engine. Twisting her currently male frame to face her husband, she drew a slow breath. "First thing" Stop biting my nails, please. And secondly, no. No, you can't have olives or pickles, or anything else that is going to make you complain anymore than you are already. Okay?"

Jon's hand went almost instinctively to the baby he was carrying inside him when she pulled the car to a halt, turning his face back to hers and looking on the verge of tears, not for the first time that day, partly due to being scolded, partly due to hormones, and partly just the stress of the day's events. He might have made a remark about her fingernails, somewhat like the remark he'd made about her hair, except that he wasn't feeling any fire inside him, only worry and distress. "I don't know how you do this, Vicki. I swear, when we switch back, I'll be the most thoughtful husband ever." When, not if. Jon had to believe that the spell was reversible. It just had to be.

"It's all part of being a woman, I suppose," she shrugged lightly. "And frankly, I have no idea how you go through the day with all this aggression. I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of losing my temper and punching something. How the hell do you cope with that every day?" The somewhat gobsmacked expression on Jon's face did nothing for his looks. Vicki did, however, make an effort to draw her borrowed features into something a little more neutral. "Now ....let's go and find out how we get back to being us again, shall we?"

Vicki's slim shoulders echoed Jon's broad shoulders' shrug. He sniffled and nodded and turned back to glance out the window, saying nothing, letting Vicki wear the pants, even if they were on his body. With any luck, they'd have this whole thing straightened out soon enough and then he'd take her out for ice cream or something. No pickles.