How about 92 with ghost maker? Thank you!
I hope you know I spent like fifteen minutes looking between webpages on men's haircuts >:(
92. Cutting their hair for them
***
“I hope you know,” she started, holding a loose grip of his hair between two of her fingers, shears pointed sideways, opening to start cutting, “that I’m a classically trained pianist and model, not a hairstylist.”
He didn’t even bother to open his eyes as he replied, “I’m aware of your professions.”
“So, why do you want me to cut your hair when there is someone who can do this without fucking up?”
“Because I trust you to not fuck it up.”
“K, sweetheart, that’s not how this works,” she stressed, using the comb to brush out the strands she had just cut, making sure the length was even. “I don’t know how to cut someone’s hair.”
“You cut that Lantern’s hair.”
Her brows furrowed. “What Lantern?”
“The pilot.”
“Oh! Hal!” she waved the hand holding the comb, snipping another length of his hair. “That was an undercut. Those aren’t hard to do. Keep it long at the crown and top, threes on the sides.” She combed her fingers through the vigilante’s brown hair. “You’ve always kept it shorter on the sides and longer on the top. Sort of a mix between a slick back and sweep.”
“Uh huh,” he drawled on, kicking his legs up on the coffee table and she gripped the scissors.
I could do it. She thought. I could just cut a chunk right out of the center of his head, and he’d have to shave it all off to make it even. Her lips pursed. Oh God, never mind. I remember what he looked like with a buzz-cut. It was horrible.
“You stopped cutting,” Ghost-Maker noted. “Something on your mind?”
“Just denying myself the urge to stab you in the jugular with my fabric shears.”
“So depraved of your inherent violence, Miss Wayne,” he tutted. “I don’t know how you live day to day.”
“Meditation and silence are both a given,” she shot back. “Maybe try it sometime.”
“Touchy touchy,” he noted, clicking his tongue and she almost snarled at him as she tugged his head to the side with a section of his hair.
“I have very sharp scissors in my hands, K. Mock me at your own peril.”