Splitting the difference between a whim and a dare, then. Greta allows herself a quiet sigh as Saoirse explains herself, privately wishing she'd talked to her about this before just going for it. Granted, she doubts she would have approved of the idea — Saoirse's natural hair color is lovely, and if she really did want to dye it, she could have started with something less drastic than attempting to go blonde right out of the gate — but she at least could have advised speaking to a hairdresser instead of buying a box of goodness-knows-what from a shop.

She takes a lock of Saoirse's hair between her fingers, trying to assess whether it's horribly damaged or just unfortunately hued. Sort of hard to tell while it's still damp, but she's hesitant to suggest drying it — as if, like setting a stain, it might just make things worse. God. What if they have to chop it all off? Maybe Regan knows more about this sort of thing.

"... Turn green?" she wryly says, unable to resist completing the sentence Saoirse couldn't bear to finish.