Rosa Emily could really dig...whatever this thing was that was happening. No parents? No sisters? Only her and a kick-ass dog in a swanky apartment with a ton of leather jackets and sweet weapons? She even slept in that morning, which was fantastic, even if she felt just a little bit guilty about that, because she knew her audition for the end-of-year recital was coming up, and sleeping in meant slacking off on practicing her routine, but, hey, sleeping in every once in a while was good, and she could always just beat up her competition if things started to get too close, right?
Right. Still, even with sleeping in from not having to go to a ballet class at the sweaty buttcrack of dawn, Rosa Emily had still managed to get a lot of stuff done. She half-expected Caleb to chicken out on her, but she'd gone to the store and picked up some hair bleach and dye, thinking if he didn't show up, maybe she could just work on some blue streaks in her own hair or something. She picked up some treats for Tchaikovsky at the pet store from their weird mascot thing, and picked up an ice coffee (black, duh) from the coffee shop, too.
And now she was just going to poke around the apartment while waiting for her potential turn as a hairdresser. She kept discovering more and more knives, some ninja stars, axes...she had more than enough to keep her entertained for a while, yes.
[[likely SP involved, but totally open!]]
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died8yearsago) wrote2018-06-07 07:17 am
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... Then again, he'd had plenty of time to convince himself that it wasn't the worst, either. And that was why he'd gone to the effort of finding Emily's apartment, and was actually knocking on her door, fidgeting with his braid as he waited for her to answer.
He wasn't going to chicken out.
Whatever that meant.
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Which was...half true! There were a lot of weapons. But she didn't know how to use them. Not yet, anyway, but how hard could it be?
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It sure sounded like her on the other side of the door.
... He was possibly less concerned about the weapons than perhaps she might be hoping he was.
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The axe she was scoping out clunked on the coffee table as she scrambled up and went to the door, standing on her tip-toes just a little to peek through the peephole to ensure that it wasn't just someone pretending to be Caleb, because someone would totaly do that, right? She unlocked the door and opened it, stepping aside with a sweeping gesture of her arm.
"Beinvenido a Casa Goldfinch," she said. "There's no turning back now."
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Such majesty.
"Actually, I've been looking forward to this."
... Trying and failing to talk himself out of it. Caleb's stubbornness was stronger than his sense of reason, sometimes.
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He was getting the feeling now that he was maybe in way over his head.
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The bathroom might have made more sense, but she didn't need some pervy guy sitting there thinking about where she'd taken a shower that morning.
"You know," she added, because she just couldn't help herself, "I did pick up some blue for myself, too. If you wanted, we could do a pink braid and blue on top and your normal hair in the middle, that'd be cool as hell."
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He did like blue...
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Guess they'd find out!
"Sure," she said, shrugging, "whatever you'd like."
She slapped a hand on the seat of the tall stool she'd put in the center of the kitchen, all the bottles and brushes she suspected she'd need laying in wait on the counter. "Have a seat."
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Caleb shrugged out of his robe, setting it well away from the stool, and then took a seat, looking only faintly uncertain about all of this. The most exciting haircuts he'd ever had were... basically exactly what he had now.
"Should I unfasten the braid...?"
Oh, that felt so weird to say. He actually kind of seemed uneasy just thinking about it.
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She would. Oh, yes, she would.
She opened up the tablecloth, shaking it out.
"Otherwise, it's just going to get the outside and it'll look dumb."
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Aaand now he felt weirdly naked.
"Okay. Like that. I don't want it to look dumb, I mean."
Caleb, you were agreeing to make yourself look like a Jedi My Little Pony. The braid was the least of your concerns here.
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But by then, she was throwing the tablecloth over the front of him, securing it in the back with a safety pin, sealing his fate.
"So," she wanted to confirm one last time before she went wild, gently pulling the tail out from where it'd gotten trapped under the tablecloth, already smoothing out the waves and kinks from the braiding with a comb, "pink tail, blue stripe on top, right?"
This poor dumdum was putting his hair in her hands.
What an idiot.
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"Or.. whatever you think would work best," he replied, maybe a little wide-eyed. This was the first time in his life he'd ever been afraid to let somebody else do something to his hair. And really, it beat feeling offended over someone laughing at his braid... "Pink tail, and..."
Yeah, no, his brain was shorting out now. This was apparently starting to catch up to him.
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But she'd walk him through what she was doing, she could at least give him that. "Okay, first, we've got to bleach it. Otherwise, the dye won't take because your hair's too dark." She reached over, snapped on some gloves, grabbed the bleach, mixed it up a little. "It won't be an issue for the tail, except maybe at the base, but when I do the top, it's going to burn like a bitch. Don't freak out, though, that's normal."
And then it was the point of no return, as she started squirting and brushing the bleach onto the tail.
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He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
"... Why does it burn?"
Were they putting something corrosive on his head?
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"Good thing I'm not planning on drinking it," he replied, squinting one eye with the effort it took to just keep his head still. He was basically a walking fidget, this was more challenging than nerving himself up to doing this had been. "I'm not too worried about the burning, though. I was just curious."
It couldn't possbily burn as bad as two blaster bolts clean through his body had. That was kind of the rubric he was grading by, now.
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Which, sure, wasn't going to seem like hardly anything except a cold jolt at first, but it was the sort of sting that liked to linger...
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No, really. Grading by the 'blaster burn' rubric made pain like this kind of disappointing by comparison.