She means to, but Lynn's underwear is too lewd to ignore.

The people around her might have looked a lot less scary, but there was one important thing Marigold had forgotten. Now, what was that?

It took a minute, but Marigold finally realized it: she was staring at dozens of people in their underwear.

"Oh," she whispered, blushing furiously. She wasn't supposed to do that. She was a good girl, and good girls didn't look at naughty things.

She froze again: it was even worse than that. Worse: she was staring at dozens of people in their underwear without their permission.

"I'm sorry!" Marigold squeaked, spinning in a circle and trying to stare at anything but half-naked people. A skinny girl in a strapless bra and fluorescent green thong looked at her like she was crazy. Marigold spun again and landed on the only familiar faces in the crowd: her friends. They knew she was a good girl, right? They'd forgive her for being a pervert. All she had to do was destroy these awful, sinful glasses, and-

Marigold's heart fluttered when she saw Lynn in a set of underwear nautghy beyond even her wildest imagination.

Without her D. Va costume Lynn had only her underwear. Lynn wasn't wearing themed underwear like Terri. In fact, what she was wearing barely even counted as underwear at all! Instead of a proper bra and panties, Lynn had chosen to cover her naughty bits with little bits of pink fabric. Margold couldn't remember what the tiny circles sticking to Lynn's breasts were called. Pastries? Painties? Oh, right. Pasties!

Marigold couldn't even come up with a name for the barely-there strip of pink stuck to Lynn's private parts. There wasn't even a waistband; how did Lynn keep it from falling off? Did she glue it there? What if she needed to use the bathroom?

The unfamiliar, unwelcome heat in Marigold's stomach blazed up again.

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