Poor Tony's flight

The disguise is a physical thing that betrays under motion, and only force keeps it on. Fleeing the woman he's just robbed, Poor Tony runs "one hand clamped tight to the wig" — the same auburn decoy-op wig from 133 — the concealment holding only because he pins it to his skull, its "green strings" of hair working loose with every footfall the way, in the buried memory the same sentence surfaces, his obstetrician father used to sit "scratching at his head where his mask's green strings had dug into the head." Masks that mark and chafe the ones who wear them: the wig nearly lost to the chase, the surgical mask grooved into the father's scalp — concealment leaving its physical toll on the concealer. (Poor Tony's body/gender-presentation is dd's; the operational wig and the disguise-under-duress are ours.)