Hair snarled and tightened when yanked; years of fighting with her own frizz had taught Taura that lesson many times over. But this was the hybrid offspring of hook-and-loop pressure seals and one of those finger-pull toys. Ugh. And this time she couldn't "accidentally" shred the thing with her nails before handing it back with an apologetic smile.

Ooh, there's an idea.

Deep breath in, and out. With the outrush of air from her lungs, she deliberately loosened her back, a slouch rippling up vertebrae like a zipper in reverse. Then she gently started to wriggle out of her shirt, pulling it up with both hands and tipping her head and neck backwards. This did nothing for the strands that had already started twining around her thighs, but the bulk of it was on her upper body; once that was clear she might have a shot at yanking herself free.