3rd Floor Boys' Bathroom, Sunday Afternoon

[rebelseekspizza]

So the whole dating thing yesterday had been pretty great. But at some point in the past twelve hours Dante had stumbled into a bathroom, eyed the mirror, and realized the hair at the sides of his head was growing long enough again that his haircut might start to approach something people would find remotely acceptable, and that just wouldn't do. Now that he had a couple of hours to himself, he was gonna go do something about that.

He eyed himself critically in the mirror. Not for the first time in his life, he wondered if he could get away with cutting the words 'fuck you' into his hair, but... nope. He wasn't that good with hair clippers. Maybe some day, though. Live the dream.

He turned the damn clippers on, set them to a reasonably close shave (but not too close. Half-bald was a bad look) and got to work trimming the hair at the sides of his head, leaving a thick strip in the middle. He spent the whole time humming something loud, tuneless and aggressive under his breath.

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