"How does someone mess up their breaks this bad, and still make it to my shop in one piece?"
"Is it too cliche if I say divine intervention?"
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@fatherglass
"How does someone mess up their breaks this bad, and still make it to my shop in one piece?"
"Is it too cliche if I say divine intervention?"
"Oh. New in town? There are two barbers that I can think of — one is good, but the other is cheap, so it’s really a toss up of which you’re willing to sacrifice, I’m afraid. If you’d prefer to get a haircut that doesn’t resemble the hack job I’m sure you gave yourself as a toddler, try the parlor downtown. If you’re crunched for money, though, try the place near the south beach.” As she spoke, Summer pointed in the direction of both barber shops, giving vague enough directions that she was able to keep her gaze focused on the stranger to whom she was speaking. While hoping for some intelligent conversation with the man in the future, she failed to notice that she was rambling on, as she had a tendency to do.
Nathaniel immediately smiled as she started talking, but as he slowly realized that she wasn't stopping, he found himself with mouth agape in shock. He shook his head to right himself and tried again to build a grin from the ground up. "That's..." He started to say, wondering what would be more awkward—saying too much back or saying too little. He hesitated, glancing at the directions she pointed at and trying to keep eye contact at the same time. His eyes were darting back and forth like marbles in a washing machine, and he felt like he somehow made negative progress. If anything, it made him sure that there were more ways to get lost in town than he previously thought. "Definitely helpful, yes."
"I think I'll try out the cheaper place. Doubt it can be as bad as when I was a toddler. After all, they're trained professionals, right?"
"You have never put vinegar. Cain’t imagine never having that."
"It’s heavenly."
"Nope."
"The closest I've ever gotten to experimenting with my fries is accidentally spilling sugar on them."
"I do and I really don’t trust my directional skills so let me lead the way. Name’s DJ by the way. Just incase you have anymore haircare questions."
"I'll be sure to speak up if I ever do."
"I'm Nathaniel, sorry for not introducing myself earlier. Should've probably done that first, but I was caught up in the euphoria of 'the hairstyling world.' Not even sure if that's an actual thing, but I'm sure you got what I meant."
"It’s best when they are hot, it’s true."
"I personally like to add a lot of vinegar. But hot with vinegar takes the cake."
"Vinegar? On fries?"
"Can't say I've ever tried putting vinegar on 'em. How do they taste? Wouldn't they get a bit soggy?"
"Not as much as one would think, I mean I usually just brush and go. I’m terrible with it. Styling takes way too much time. Their sort of charming actually, many older men have bangs. I can’t think of any off the top of my head, but I’m sure of it.. I’m Pax by the way. Pax Odell."
"Well, guess you must be blessed then. I always have to spend an obscene amount of money on hair gel just to look presentable. That thought does make feel a tad better though, perhaps in a few years I should grow them out until I end up with a reverse mullet."
"Pax...That's certainly an unusual name. Never heard it before, but it's easy on the ears. I'm Nathaniel Glass, pleasure to meet you."
[ Adrian turns his head toward the source of the noice, a questioning look on his face ] Are you sure you should be doing that?
[ Nathaniel reacts somewhat late, not realizing it was him making the noise as he cracked his wrists nearby. ] Didn't realize I was being so loud then. Got lost in thought for a second there.
"Now everyone says McDonalds is bad for my health, but I am happy as a dead pig on sunshine when I am eating their fries."
"It's a shame that they're only good when they're hot, though."
"The only way I can eat them lukewarm is if I drench them in sea salt. Otherwise I feel like I'm chewing on a dish rag."
some connection ideas?
so while nathaniel is in plot 8 with pax, i figured i might as well expand his connections and not make him look like an antisocial hermit. aaaand here's some ideas i had:
roommate:
see a problem i had early on with this guy is that i have no idea how to justify his residence here. he's currently homeless. priests don't make very much and buying is out of the question, so the only way he can really have a place to sleep in is if someone helps him out. but who??? a kind soul who wished to help the new guy? a strange citizen who just wants people in their house at all times so they can have a test subject for their social experiments? and old lady who just didnt notice that there was someone living in her basement? i'm up for having him room with anyone
animosity:
i've always been interested in antagonistic relationships, and everytime i play a character i try to always cultivate a certain ~je ne se fuck~ of grand proportions that put them in conflict with someone else. we can coordinate why they can't stand each other. like there's so many reasons. if someone came to your hometown dressed in full black attire asking for pocketmoney to buy a pair a sunglasses for his hangover, you'd probably be suspicious, right? and would you look at that! instant discomfort between two characters. add a little name-calling and foot-stepping and you got a beautiful hate-hate relationship
...
i could have sworn i had more ideas, but i need to leave soon so i'll just add more later on! also i forgot to introduce myself! my name is marina and im excited to hear from you.
"There’s a positive outlook then!"
"Oh no I trim it myself once every month actually. Your hair is actually quite nice don’t hate on it."
"Yeah, I've been watching a lot of local television. Mostly just self-help book promotions and yoga tips to find your inner self. Been really optimistic as of late."
"And thank you. Admittedly mine's not bad, but it's such a simple cut that it's impossible to mess up, y'know? I imagine having more hair like yourself would probably mean more upkeep. Still think I should get rid of my bangs though, I'm nearing middle-age. There comes a time in everyone's life where they gotta start moving on to the nursery home look."
DJ laughed. “Well, I guess not everyone has one of those stories. My parents took me to barbers religiously as they had no idea how to deal with this mess,” he said as he ruffled his very short hair. He looked around. “Uh you know what?”
"I’ll walk you there if you like. I’m shit at giving directions, that’s like m downfall at what I do."
Nathaniel laughed along too then looked at the direction that DJ did. "That way?" He asked in confusion, wondering if he hadn't inadvertently asked someone where the barbershop was whilst standing right in front of it. When he didn't see anything, he was relieved. His air of mystery survived a day more.
"Well, alright, but only if you have the spare time. Wouldn't want to be a bother or anything."
"I think there’s one a block away from the library. But there’s a high chance I’m extremely wrong. Seeing as I have all my hair I think you can tell I don’t frequent going to them."
"Well, the worst case scenario if there's nothing there is that I get some exercise, so it probably wouldn't hurt to check."
"How long haven't you been then? Six months? A year or two? Honestly, if I had hair like yours, I'd probably be wary about cutting it too."
"The cheapest should be Kennedy’s at about six dollars for men. For someone who hasn’t gone to the barber since he was six though, your hair doesn’t seem to be touching the floor or horribly disfigured."
"That isn't precisely what I meant..."
"I was talking about the time I found a razor in the closet and wanted to try a new hairstyle. Aimed to give myself a mohawk, ended up with a shaved head. Doesn't everyone have one of those first 'self-cut' stories? And well, it's not touching the floor yet, but I'm getting a cowlick and it's staring to annoy me. Where's Kennedy's, though?"
"'Scuse me. Do you happen to know where I can find a cheap barber in this town? The last time I tried cutting my own hair was when I was six and my skills haven't really gotten better since then."
… I don’t believe in God as a kind father in the sky. I don’t believe that the meek will inherit the earth: The meek get ignored and trampled. They decompose in the bloody soil of war, of business, of art, and they rot into the warm ground under the spring rains. It is the bold, the loud-mouthed, the cruel, the vital, the revolutionaries, the mighty in arms and will, who march over the soft patient flesh that lies beneath their cleated boots.
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via heresay)