[She trips into the salon, her green hat in hand while her bangs look as though they have too much product in them, keeping them to the side, when in fact it's just bubblegum.] Helloooo? Is this place still open today?
[He looks up from another customer's head (he's almost done) and glances to the door. There's a young woman there, and her bangs look a right mess. He grins as he nods at her and indicates by a jerk of his head for her to take a seat.]
We're open, yeah. [He spritzes water onto his customer's hair.] I'm almost done here, so go ahead and take a seat. I'll be right with you.
[She lets herself into the shop after having walked by it twice or three times now, circling the area nervously as she decides whether or not she actually wants to go in. But finally she commits, and finally she approaches the counter, twisting and twining and tugging on one of her loose braids in a fit of nervous energy.]
[Post-lunch break hours tend to be pretty relaxed. Today is no exception, as there is not a person in the reception chairs, so Allen goes through his inventory quickly again. The numbers have been looking good thus far; he’s been able to sell many a Belle, Inc. styling product during his appointments. His father would really like hearing of this, and Allen makes a note to email his dad later on it.]
[In the middle of counting his new delivery of hair gels—and being distracted by his own hair in the mirror (are his roots showing?), he hears the door open. Turning to look at the entry, he nods to a rather timid looking customer. When she approaches him at the counter, he smiles, brimming with a welcoming expression.]
Good afternoon. [He stacks a container of gel on top of another and lets the rest be.] Are you here for a hair cut?
[She watches him as he approaches her, her eyes following upwards while he reaches up above her as well. Pink eyebrows pull together at the sudden re-affirmation of their height difference, and she has mixed feelings about it.
A part of her mentally huffs at it— accusing him of putting the detangler there on purpose, even if there was no way he could have known she was going there with the intentions of buying some.
The other? Well, she doesn’t like having her height pointed out to her like it something she wasn’t aware of… but she’s… whatever. It’s whatever.]
Huh. Popularity doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the most effective though. [Raises an eyebrow at his hair, taking a step back as she receives the bottle. If he doesn’t really need it, then that doesn’t say much about how well it would do with her sister’s hair. Looks it over, reading the front before flipping it over to read the ingredients.]
[Looks over the second bottle. Murmurs, unconsciously reaching up to play with a pink curl:] I don’t think frizz is a real problem for her. Her hair isn’t curly like mine…
[Quirks an eyebrow at him again.] That’s nice and all, but isn’t grapefruit like, acidic? Wouldn’t that dry out her hair? [Picks up the first bottle again.] — What price range are we talkin’ about here anyway?
[He watches Luna examine the products and is struck by just how much attention she's paying to the damn sprays. Very few costumers have done that. They usually take his advice. And with this, he realizes she will be a hard one to sell to.] You're right about the popularity thing. That's the trap people tend to fall into.
[He raises both his eyebrows, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at her very keen observation.] Grapefruit is a citrus fruit, so yeah, it's got acid. There's not that much in this formula though. Just hints of it--enough to give a grapefruity scent. [He uncaps the bottle, aims the nozzle toward the mirror, and spritzes a bit of the spray.] Have a smell yourself. It's good.
[He caps the bottle and sets it down.] As for price range--you're at a salon, Luna. You're getting salon quality goods. They're both around 2300G.
[He reaches above him again and grabs a third bottle. It's smaller and thinner, but its script is very fancy, as is its glass bottling.] If you want, however, the top tier stuff, this is it. No silicone, no acid, none of that crap. Just detangling mist that works. [Folds his arms and leans against the counter with a smile.]
Anytime~♪ [Sends an overly sweet smile in his direction, though it’s clear she doesn’t really mean it. Though she’s finally got what she wanted— some recognition, and it made another smile light up her face. It was more sincere and rather pleased.]
Right, of course. Wouldn’t want to annoy your boss. [Raises her fingertips to her lips, eyes wide as she gasps dramatically.] Oh wait, that’s you! Never mind, then♪.
[Pushes herself away from the desk, heels clicking against the smooth floor of the salon as she wanders over to a display lined with hair products.] Anyway, I came for a bottle of like, hair detangler spray or something. [Picks up a bottle of a leave-in conditioner, studying it for a moment. Clicks it open to get a whiff of the scent before putting it back. Looks at Allen over her shoulder.] For my sister. Her hair is so long that it’s kinda hard to manage I guess.
[He can't fight a grin in response to her dramatics and her admission that he is in charge. Whew, what an ego booster! He lowers the magazine onto his lap and offers her his full attention.] Yes, that's right. I am indeed the boss. I offer you thanks again for acknowledging this fact.
[When she walks away, he looks down at his lapel and pulls a crooked edge straight. He keeps his eyes trained surreptitiously on Luna, however, to make sure she doesn't mess up his display of stuff. He doesn't need any of that to be disorganized. It had been such a hassle sorting the bottles of shampoos, hairsprays, gels, waxes.] ...
[He sets his magazine down on his desk and stands, straightening his t-shirt as he does so.] You have come to the right place. [Walks over to the shelf of products and plucks a small bottle from up high, above Luna's head. He holds it out to her for examination.] This is one of the most popular detangling sprays. I use it myself, though I don't necessarily need it per se. [Tilts his head. A smooth strand of hair falls into his eyes, which he brushes away with his hand.]
But if you're looking for something more concentrated, more smoothing and controls frizz well, I'd recommend this one. [He grabs another bottle, this time from a mid-high shelf. He sets it on the countertop and taps its lid.] It's similar to that one in price, but this one's got revitalizing properties and smells great, according to my female customers. I mean, look at the ingredients. You can't go wrong with-- [Reading the label aloud, he says:] grapefruit, cedar, lavender. What's not to like?
When Claire got to Echo Village, she wasn’t expecting to be mistaken for their own local farmer all day. Everywhere she went, she heard the villagers call her by the wrong name. Even the mayor came by asking for a favor that she couldn’t provide. Frustrated and tired, Claire just went to the local restaurant to grab a bite to eat.
As soon as she opened the door to the place, she realized it was absolutely packed, save for one seat near the window. She quickly ordered her food and grabbed the seat before anyone else could, then laid her head on the table with a groan, oblivious to the red-haired man beside her giving her an odd and bemused look.
Chez Clement wasn't a bad restaurant. Sure, it did not have the prestige of the five star joints Allen had frequented in the city, but the head chef did make a mean Genovese Pasta and at a reasonable price too. Not that Allen did not have the money to afford high end Italian food; he was just in the process of budgeting. Carefully. This was his first foray into running a small business after all. It would not do for him to blow all his hard-earned cash on food.
Sitting at a window seat with fork in hand, he looked outside at the road. There weren't many passersby, as it seemed all of them, locals and tourists alike, had jammed themselves into the restaurant.
So it was no surprise when he turned his head to the once empty seat next to him and found it occupied. His new neighbor was a girl, blonde and kind of familiar-looking. Except there was something about her face that wasn't exactly Rachel, though the vibe she gave Allen was very much "farmer."
Allen smiled. It was his "nice-to-meet-you, I'm here to charm," smile. Who knows? Maybe he could make himself a new customer.
"Pardon me," he asked her hunched figure. "It looks like you're having a really bad day. Care to make use of a listening ear? I promise I'm not a psychopath."
[Notices that he’s not looking at her. She narrows her eyes at the magazine that he seemed absorbed in, her bottom lip curling out and forming a pout. Huffs, rolling her eyes and turns her head to look else where.]
… I might have given you a different answer like, ten minutes ago, but now I’m going to go with yep.
[He continues to flip through his magazine.] That is such a reassurance, thanks.
[Looks up at her over his magazine.] To what do I owe the pleasure of your most welcome visit today, Luna? I'm actually technically supposed to be working right now, so idle chit chatting with people who aren't customers is strictly forbidden. Coiffe employee rules. [Raises his eyebrows expectantly.] Sorry.
[Is distracted with her phone when she enters the salon, her keychains hitting the back of her hand as she fiddles around with it. Her normally fair skin of her legs is a soft pink from walking around exposed to the cold. Throws Allen a quick glance before waltzing over to the desk and leans back against it. Grins.] Hiya♪. [Crosses her arms.] I see you're still alive, that's good.
[He’s sitting, his feet up on his desk, with the latest print of Belle in hand. He had received it in the mail just this morning, in fact, and with the work day nearing its end and no appointments in sight, he spends an inordinate amount of time just flipping through. Checking out the latest main spread.
He’s unimpressed with the sheer boringness of this month’s theme. But what had he expected? Those lame-os back in the editing room had no ambition. No flair for the dramatic, the exciting, the eye-catching—] Hmm…
[Speaking of eye-catching, there’s a flouncing at his door, then a presence, a familiar face. He glances at her quickly from the corner of his eye but decides not to acknowledge her the way she likely wants him to. ‘Cause that’d be making her life too easy.] …
[Still staring at his magazine, he flips a page lazily.] …If you had waltzed in here and found me dead, would that still be “good”?
[Lets out a tired and frustrated groan.] So what? Be a gentleman and let me have the bed.
[Huffs.] And yeah right. I should kick you just for saying that.
[And just as she warned, she kicks at his shin with a socked foot. Closes her eyes and makes her self comfortable, wiggling under the blankets. She’s so not going to be the one to abandon the bed. That, and the mattress is softer than her own at home, which kind of annoys her. Why wasn’t her bed at home this soft?
Murmurs into the pillow she has claimed for herself, long pink curls spilling over the pillowcase: ] You shouldn’t … have upset me in the first place.
[Opens her eyes, sneakinga peak at him. Her eyes have long since adjusted to the dark, and she can see him pretty clearly. Big shocker though— his face looks exactly the same as it had for all the time she has known him. But something about the image lingers in her sleepy state of mind.
Her eyes drift down past his neck, noting the slop of his collar bone. They keep moving, rolling at his annoyingly toned stomach, down to that almost tacky Armani brand and logo on the waistband of his pants.
Blinks.
Pulls the blankets higher up her shoulders. Closes her eyes shut, shooing images away from her mind.] Have fun freezing without blankets. It’s only the middle of November, genius.
[Pauses.] —And scoot over a bit. I know I’m small but I need… [Yawns.] … more space.
[Grumbling a bit, mostly for show, as her foot makes contact with his shin.] Ow...! What was that? A robotic limb? Goddess, that hurt...
[Shifts onto his back and folds his arms across his chest as he gazes up at the ceiling. He looks over to her as she murmurs.] ...The rest of the world isn't here to serve you, Queen Luna. [Muttering:] And if I upset you, it wasn't on purpose. Obviously. I just--words get the better of me sometimes. [Looking away from her, to a blurry point across the room.] That's just who I am.
[His lips twitch into a smile at her taunt. He rubs a hand over a bare arm.] For your information, I have specially adapted to the cold. I don't freeze. I thaw. [Shooting her A Look, eyebrows waggling.] 'Cause I'm hot. [Nonetheless he moves about the bed and positions himself so that he can grab a hold of the blankets and pull it over himself.] ...Don't be such a blanket hog. [Matter-of-factly, as he settles again into a comfortable position:] And if you want more space, get rid of these damned pillows. [Pokes at a pillow between them.]
[Huffs as he pulls the blankets up his shoulders. It does feel nice to be covered by such warmth, to block the chill from hitting his abdomen--though he hadn't realized until now he'd been cold in the first place.]
[Throws a sleepy glare right back at him before turning away to stare at his dresser.]
… It’s your fault ‘cause I said so.
[She feels him move more than sees him, just by the fact that she’s still seated at the edge of his bed. A pout forms at her lips, and she reaches up to rub at her eyes. Thankfully, she removed her makeup before leaving here in that silly rush. But with her luck, some mascara probably lingered on her eyelashes. Great. Rolls her eyes, standing up. Sighs loudly.] — Maybe crazy people do, but I don’t. I hate swimming.
[He hears his drawers being opened, and normally that's cause for him to freak out (he likes to keep organized, thank you very much), but since it's Luna he trusts she won't go crazy pulling clothes out of their carefully stacked piles. Without sending a look her way--keeping his eyes sleepily, tightly shut--he listens to her ruffle through his stuff.]
[She seems to have found something satisfactory, as he can hear drawers close soon after they've opened. Then there's a sigh followed by a moment of silence, sweet and deafening all at once. That's what the village is good for, really: silence, prolonged and frequent. No cars honking outside, no people yelling in alleyways. No anything. Just...silence, broken only by morning when the rooster crows. Literally.
But not literally, of course. He respects her enough (a lot enough) to just listen to the soft rustling noises of her dress' fabric as it leaves her body. Hits the floor. But his eyes do open now to the fact that she feels comfortable enough changing out of her dresses and into other garments while he's in the room.
Hell. She could've gone into the living room to do this. But instead she trusted him enough not to peek, not to be naughty--and he wasn't naughty. He was good, is good, and thus he is rewarded by the sound of a yawn. Her sitting on his bed again.]
[Stubbornly:] ...This bed's too comfy. I'm not getting up.
[There's a push at his shoulder, well-deserved, but still he doesn't get up. Why should he anyway? She was the one who had barged in here all righteous and angry, and he had been asleep. There's no good, legitimate reason for him to sleep on the couch--
Aaaaand, it looks like he won't have to, because Luna climbs into bed, creates a pillow divider between the them. And now he has to open his eyes to peek; indeed, that's what she has done. And she has the nerve to ask him to "get out" again?]
[This woman. Seriously.] ...No. Not leaving. You do whatever kicking you want. [Gripping his pillow.] This is my bed, I was here first, and I have every right to be in here. You're the intruder. [Sighs, loud and dramatic as he closes his eyes and settles in for sleep.] ...I should call the cops on you.
[Ah. So he's managed to scare her off, has he? She says as much--she says she's going home. Vaguely, he registers that it is late though. He cracks an eye open to check the light filtering in through his window and--yep. That's moonlight. That's moonlight alright.
So if Luna wants to get home--] Hm...?
[He feels a sinking sort of weight at the end of his bed. It's Luna sitting down, of course. What else could it be?
And mostly he tries to disregard her presence--her bottom on his bed--by keeping his eyes shut. Pretending to still be tired, which he is (he's just not sleepy anymore, not when she's sitting on his bed! And stuck! For the night!).] ....
[He sighs quietly and lifts his head off his pillow just enough to throw her a weak glare.] Izznah my fault, Lu. 'Ow could it be? You're the one here. At-- [Looks to his alarm clock. It's past midnight, for goddess' sake!] --an unholy hour. Sheesh. [He rolls over again, this time onto his side. He tucks a hand under his pillow, keeps his eyes closed.]
[His voice is soft when he says:] ...You can sleepover, obviously. Unless you wanna swim home. People do that. Not fun.
[Eyes flicker to his face, hopeful that this response is a result of him actually listening to her and waking up already.] Yeah, duh, it’s me. But you would have known that if you had checked your phone!
[And again, his half-asleep murmurings distract from her anger, which isn’t good, because remaining angry takes energy. Energy, which by the way, she’s starting to run low on with each minute that ticks by. Sighs loudly, unfolding her arms in frustration.]
[Whines.] C’mon! [Pauses, slowly realizing she clearly didn’t think this through. This entire thing has 'impulsive' written all over it.]
— I mean, don’t you think you should be apologizing to me?! I can’t believe you said I was settling!!
[Stares hims down, clearly upset, and because staring at him would clearly make him wake up.] Are you listening to me?! That was mean! [Her brow furrows.] I had a really, really, nice time tonight, so you!! You!! [Nudges him again, her patience quickly going straight out the window.] — Allen, wake up!
[Phone. She's saying something about his phone. But where exactly is his phone...and honestly, who cares...?] Lu...I been sleeping...couldn' check...
[He rolls onto his stomach, his arms still spread out on either side of him. He draws his hands close and tucks them under his pillow. The underside feels so nice, so cool. It almost makes up for the whining in his ear.
--The whining in his ear demanding an apology. Which does wake him up a bit, just a tad. But his survival instincts, always strong, tell him that if he pretends to remain sleepy and groggy he'll not have to issue said apology...] ...
...Wha--? [He blinks blearily up at her, her face obscured in his field of vision by the fact that he's not wearing glasses. Oh, well.] Wha' about me again...? Whazzis--whazzis apology for?
[He yawns and can feel tears prickle the corner of his eyes, slide down his cheek. He wipes the stray tear by nuzzling his face against his pillowcase.] ...Whater you doin' 'ere anyway? Other than ta' yell a' me.
[Blinks, surprised that he’s actually asleep. And mumbling… nonsense. Cute nonsense, but nonsense nonetheless. It’s a little endearing, and distracts her enough that she has to remember the first thing she was going to chew him out about. Shakes her head.]
—Allen! Wake up! [Walks over to his bedside, shoving his shoulder. —Bare shoulder, actually. She’s only just now noticing his lack of shirt, and okay, so maybe her eyes wander a little itty bitty bit, but geez, it’s not like no one else wouldn’t do it. … And it’s not like anyone could prove she did it.]
[Sighs, folding her arms across her chest.] —First of all, how could you forget to lock up?! That’s not safe, are you crazy?! Like, what if some thief comes in and steals all your equipment, huh?! What then? [What if some crazy ax murderer suddenly showed up or something?! Moron.]
[Sighs loudly, dropping her purse on his dresser— noticing the three, not one or two, but three empty beer bottles. Goddess help her.] Will you wake up already?! This is important! [Stamps her foot against the floor.]
[There's a tactile sensation at his shoulder, and this is what brings him out of dreaming.
This and the fact that there's a very familiar sound in his ear--a voice. Female. Short. Scolding him.
Ah, yes. So familiar.] ...Wha--?
[Disoriented, he blinks up at a young woman--and he winces slightly when he hears the sound of her bag coming down on his dresser.] Mm...Luna..? [His eyelids droop, still exhausted, and his words blur together:] Izzat you? Whater you doin'...in my house...whazzo 'mportan'...thief...?
[When she arrives home she starts getting ready for bed, and reaches for her cellphone to set her alarms for the next morning. It’s the first time she’s bothered to look at it since afternoon. —But what greets her right on her home screen? A long ignored message from Allen.
She sighed loudly, remembering their entire conversation before, her angry quickly resurfacing. (And she had such a nice night, too! Gosh!!)]
[Luna starts to un-button her dress before coming to a sudden halt.]
—You know what? Nuh-uh, no.
[Picks up her keys and wallet, wrapping her shawl around her arms as she tries her best to move through the house as quickly and quietly as possible. Once she’s out, she rolls her eyes. Isn’t she a bit old to be sneaking out? Argh, but she’s so upset!! She can’t possibly go to sleep like this. Besides, she has a point to prove.]
[It’s sometime past midnight by the time she arrives in Echo Village, and not a lot of lights are on in the buildings as she hurries down the path to Allen’s salon— his aren’t on for that matter, either. Exhaling loudly, she knocked loudly against his door,
No answer.]
[Flips out her phone and sends a text. Or rather, two:]
[Texts:]
I’m outside your house
hurry up and let me in
[He doesn’t answer quickly enough for her liking, so she tries the door— which actually opens?] … What in the —??
[Texts:]
ok whatever i’m coming in
[Lets herself in, but makes the point of turning around to lock up for him —rolling her eyes after because, seriously?— before making her way across the dark salon and up the stairs. It’s equally dark up on the second floor, and she huffs as she let’s herself into his bedroom, forgetting to take a moment and steel herself for whatever potentially traumatizing sight she might see.] — Okay, first of all, seriously?!
He had also called his mom, like a good son, and they’d chatted for a bit. She talked on how she missed her two little kiddos, and he had promised to visit with Riley and soup later that week.
By the third beer of the night—and six sketches of Navy-inspired menswear later—he had passed out on his bed, dead to the world in his pajama bottoms and nothing else on.]
[So naturally the messages that buzz his phone atop the bedside table go ignored. He (quietly) snores right through them, shifting from an undignified prone position to a slightly less undignified position his back, arms and legs splayed apart.
And it goes without saying that he doesn’t hear the approach of someone first stomping up his stairs then later opening his bedroom door.]
[Breathing deeply, his eyelids fluttering in response to a voice that sounds rather…familiar. Except the identity of the speaker doesn’t register with him because he’s dreaming at the moment, though he does get a vision of pink, illuminated. Mumbling softly, incoherently:] …Lu…lu…not now…salmon swimming up…flamingoes…
Popuri giggled at his comment, happy to know he could recall the amount of pink hair he had to chop off. Then her cheeks became lightly shaded with red. Was that.. a compliment? Smiling just a bit on the shyer side, she glanced over to the side. “Well, thank you again. That’s very sweet of you.”
At his mention of the dirty city air the pinkette giggled once again and looked back up at him. “Good for you! Hmm?” She tilts her head, looking down at her dress and shoes, remembering how cute they were. “Oh, am I too dressed up?” She looks back up at him, pink lips slightly parted.
"It’s my first time in the city, so I wasn’t sure what to wear. I had a feeling everyone would be dressed up!" She looked him over once again, nodding her head. "You’re dressed up quite nicely, if I might say so~ Of course, I assume you’re always well dressed.”
Allen shook his head. "There's no such thing as 'too dressed up' in the city. You can definitely be 'too dressed down' though. Quite literally. You have no idea how many a naked wanderer I've bumped into. But that's the city for you."
He was about to ask her whether this was her first time here when she answered that question for him. And the answer wasn't a surprise--the opposite of one really. Wrangling his memories for the few moments they had shared in his salon, he remembered that he had gotten the "small town girl" vibe from her. Not that that was a bad thing; he was a small town boy himself. And he had a quiet fondness for small towns. Just not today, not when he was bored. "What made you come alone?" he asked. "You know there are some pretty shady people around here, like that dude just now. It'd have been a safer bet to have come with someone else."
At her compliment he smoothed a hand over his tie and grinned. "Oh, thanks. And you're absolutely right. I'm always dressed for success. I would not be caught dead in a sweatshirt, not when I'm on display."
/Smiles/ Same for me. Gotta always look good, impressions and clothes are everything. Looking terrible is how I want to live personally.
2000G’s? That’s a pretty good discount! /She pulls out a wallet from her pocket, taking out the money and handing it to him/ I can’t thank you enough! And duh, course I will! Don’t think I know anyone who else nearby who could do a haircut better than yours!
[He takes the money from her, a most gracious smile upon his face (no hint of smirk anywhere).] No. Thank you for your visit today and, hopefully, your patronage next time and the time after that. Aaaaand don't forget to tell anyone in a hair crisis about me!
[Holds his hand out for a handshake.] I'll see you around, Miss Farmer With Excellent Hair. [Winks.]
[Casually reads through his messages, mildly surprised that Allen met him too. Slowly, her jaw drops and she stares at her phone-- offended. So. Offended. Flips her phone closed. Glares at it. Leaves to do her hair. Returns an entire half hour later, texts:] Youre an ass and I dont want to talk to you anymore c: [Snaps her phone shut, refusing to look at it again.]
[When he doesn't receive a reply within a minute, two, three, five, instead of lazing around checking emails on his phone, he sticks his phone back into his pocket.
Then he returns to the sink to finish drying up his tools.
Yeah.
Because, like, if Luna's gonna be mad at him for what he had said, whatever. Let her be mad. Knowing her, he had no doubt she'd eventually reply and probably with something scathing.
He's not disappointed when he gets a buzz. He checks the screen and snorts at her text.]
