epidemiology | [closed]

Entry tags:

[closed]

CHARACTERS: Sigma & Ramir
DATE: A bit before the Ghost Town event
WARNINGS: n/a
SUMMARY: When you're invulnerable, sometimes the only way to get yourself a haircut is with your cool new lightsaber and very accommodating boyfriend.

[ Her hair has gotten really, really embarrassingly shaggy during her time with ALASTAIR. After she'd quickly realized that scissors do fuck all to help, she'd learned to live with it, but not happily. Then there'd been that whole future-self ordeal, and that Ramir had long beautiful hair, which means that this Ramir is even more invested in finding a way to chop hers off.

Not long after she'd managed to secure her great new weapon from the blacksmith here, she'd had a great idea. After all, she has proof that this thing gets hot enough to hurt even her, right? So all she needs is a willing barber.

That's where Sigma comes in.

It's perfectly fine by her that he probably has exactly no training cutting hair — how bad could you fuck it up? But more to the point, she doesn't trust anyone else around here more. That's why she's currently seated on the edge of their bed in their saloon room, one leg crossed over the other, and the innocuous, powered-down hilt of her new lightsaber resting next to her as she waits for him. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ No probablies about it. He'd never even taken a scissors to a girl's Barbies as a child, let alone to someone's actual hair. As for his own, he's never really done anything special with it, so it's been on one of the lowest rungs on his ladder of attention since he got here. Not to mention the fact that apparently his older self had gone and gotten a stupid haircut. What if whatever he ended up doing with it became that... Better not chance it. Even if it does get in his eyes a little bit too much these days. ]

[ All that aside, he really has no particular reason to be thinking about haircuts as he heads up the saloon stairs and along to their room, and so he doesn't. Entering blissfully ignorant, he smiles, tinged with the aforementioned recommended intrigue and concern. She looks Ready for something. ]

So... [ Trailing off expectantly, he hangs in the doorway for all of two seconds before trotting over. The inactive lightsaber sits innocently glossed over as he focuses on eyeing her up. ]

[ She hops to her feet as soon as Sigma's in the room, wearing that particular smile that says she's had a great idea. ]

I had a great idea.

[ Just in case he needed proof. She swings in to plant the usual quick peck of a kiss on his lips, then straight back out again to snatch up the weapon, still just a hilt. Her smile has never looked so earnest. ]

I need you to give me a haircut.

Oh yeah?

[ It's the kind of smile that amps up the intrigue and concern in opposite directions, leaving him straddling precariously between them, unsure which way to push off toward and regain his footing on. She settles that quickly with the reveal of her master plan, and it's in the direction of concern that he lands. ]

[ Brow furrowing nervously, a bit of a laugh escapes through that smile of his, eyes flicking down to the hilt clutched eagerly in her hands and back up again. ]

I, uh... Well, first problem with that, I didn't bring any scissors with me or anything. Do you think they'd have some downstairs?

[ Why does she need this... whatever this is... ]

[ Okay, she can admit she should probably give him a little more information. So it comes with a disdainful snort, as she drops her attention to fiddle with the hilt. ]

Come on, scissors don't work on my hair anymore. Otherwise I'd just do it myself. [ And... there. The blade springs to life with that low hum of energy, and Ramir grins nearly as brightly as it glows. ] But this works! I mean, as long as you don't lop my head off with it, or anything.

[ That's with a laugh. How ridiculous, right, that would never happen. ]

God, not even your hair? [ This explains so much. ] I guess you didn't go bald splashing around in the lava, did you...

[ Hold that thought, she's got the sword lighting up brightly to their side and he's nearly startled off the floor with a quiet whoa sneaking out from under his breath. Right, she'd gotten a lightsaber... And the first thing he's gonna get to use it for is an over-glorified and far over-qualified stylist's razor? No, he already doesn't know what to do, man, don't even joke! ]

Wait wait wait, you found the, like... the one thing that can actually hurt you and you want me going around your face with it?! [ THAT'S TOO MUCH PRESSURE. ] Is light even gonna cut it or is it just gonna, y'know. Burn off?

[ He puts out a tentative hand toward the blade, palm out, feeling for warmth. ]

[ It's instinct that has her flicking the blade of it away from him — and she's pretty handy with flicking around weapons at this point, moving it like an extension of her hand. But... if she's going to be trusting him to do this, clearly she should trust him to not take his hand off with it. So she makes a face and holds the blade still for him. It's heatless, so far as can be told by any gauging hands. ]

I tested it, just singes it right off. [ She shifts to a one-handed grip and pulls out a simple comb from a pocket. ] Trust me, it's gonna be easy. I'll point out where, and you'll just cut it near the hilt. Easy.

[ That flick earns a flinch of his own fingers, reaching reflexively toward the retreating blade for a fraction of an inch before withdrawing close to his chest. It's accompanied by the briefest of scowls, a dose of indignation to go with the lingering concern and mounting uncertainty. Of course he wasn't going to fucking grab it! ]

We're gonna smell lovely by the time we're done here— Ramir, this is a big sword.

[ There seems to be another mouthful of protests on the tip of his tongue, but after a moment or two, he swallows them. If he refused to do it, she'd probably just try to do it herself. At least this way she wouldn't be reaching around awkwardly behind her own head with the lengthy blade. Or worse, asking someone other than him for help with it... ]

[ The downside to the thing being heatless is she probably couldn't tell him if he was getting too close to her head before the inevitable yelp itself, but that just meant he'd have to be extra careful. As if there was anything else to be. He lets out a sigh, lets his hand drop from feeling for heat to open and expectant. ]

Alright, just show me where all the switches are so I don't turn on some kinda stupid crossguard or anything, unless you want some new holes in your ears while we're at it... You better show me on the comb, too.

[ One last disclaimer enough that he's really no barber, but it's the least he can do to try and grin away the nerves with that. ]

[ That sounds like agreement to her weird, dangerous scheme if she's ever heard it. She looks delighted, and flicks the blade off again. ]

Nice.

[ She wastes absolutely no time in slipping around behind Sigma, one arm reaching to press the saber into his hand while the other curves around to provide a demonstration. ]

Okay, so, here — and here — [ She flicks it on, then off again. ] That's about all there is to it.

[ Easy, right? Right. She drags him toward the mirror in the room, off to the side of the room, as she runs the comb through her hair a couple times. ]

You ready?

Edited 2016-10-27 02:34 (UTC)

[ He hopes to god he isn't about to regret this, or more importantly that she isn't about to regret this halfway through. Nevermind though, he's agreed. Time to replace resignation with commitment. Taking the saber and carefully noting which switches went which ways to do what, he lets himself be pulled along until he's standing behind her in front of the room's little mirror. ]

As I'll ever be.

[ He tugs a chair over, takes her by the shoulders and sits her down for good measure, before holding the saber off to the side and activating it with another of those intimidating little hums. Steadily, he brings it up beside one of her ears. ]

Just say where.

[ Attaboy, that's why she likes him. (Among numerous other reasons.) She pats his arm fondly before taking that seat and straightening up helpfully. ]

Alright... start here, here's easy.

[ That's as she combs out her bangs, measures the length of her hair carefully, and holds the comb out with a lock of hair splayed out and ready through its teeth. About three inches long, carefully at the right angle. It should be hard to fuck up.

Hopefully.

She keeps herself still, watching him in the mirror. She trusts him. She trusts he'd have refused if he thought he couldn't do it. Those are the thoughts that she holds foremost in her mind as she watches the only weapon she's run into lately that could actually fuck her up. ]

[ Always being ready for a challenge certainly is one of his better selling points. The pats are reassuring, as is the guideline of the comb, albeit unpleasantly close to fingers. He recalls how her hair had laid when they'd first met, moving his head to find the best angle at which to approach this. Off to the side, he waves the tip of the blade in little figure-eights, getting a feel of sorts for the weapon. It really was weightless and easy to move around, almost a little too easy. Disconcerting considering how long it is. ]

[ But counteracting that, his robotic hands could apparently--with enough concentration--remain absolutely steady. Coupled with the fact his palms don't sweat, it's actually proving to be exactly that. Quite hard to fuck up. ]

Okay, one, two... three.

[ Positioning the blade under the first lock destined for the chopping, he pulls it quickly through the hair, which promptly vaporizes with a little sszt! ... Along with an infinitesimal bit of comb, if the tiny flecks of black in the teeth are any indication. He purses his lips, before glancing back up at her through the mirror. ]

How's that?

[ She holds as still as she can manage, even pausing her breath, and... success. It's one down out of a whole lot, but it's a good start. She grins back at him through the mirror, looking pretty pleased. ]

Perfect. See? I told you, easy.

[ She knew he'd be good for this. Maybe the robot arms really are helping. She combs out that side, takes a second or two to admire the suddenly shorter hair (god it's been a while since she's managed a haircut, over a year now), and combs out another strand for him. The front part goes pretty easy, that's straight forward. The back gets a little trickier, and involves some creative leaning and twisting around to get her hair to fall far enough out from her head. It's at some point when she's got her head leaned down basically upside down that she cocks a quick grin up at him that has the grace to be at least slightly sheepish. ]

This is what you wanted out of your afternoon, right? I just had a feeling you'd love it.

[ Her approval quickly earns a grin of his own, and he sets about repeating the process on the rest of her hair, confidence instilled, though he tries to keep his movements slow and meticulous. Getting around to the back helps with that, shorter goals and weirder positions, requiring the utmost concentration. ]

[ He pauses when she smiles up at him, hunched over her at a similarly peculiar angle, and can't help but laugh. ] Yeah, think I've found my calling.

[ Leaning briefly out for a better view, he turns her head straight forward again, pushing her chin closer to her chest to better get at the nape of her neck. ] You should see if you can't get that blacksmith to make you some kinda light-scissors before we leave here. Or at least like a light-letter opener or something, I feel like scissors would violate some kinda "don't cross the streams" rule or—

[ Funny, he's just marveling offhand at the fact that he has yet to burn himself when the tiniest but sharpest of sensations just barely brushes the tip of his little finger and he can't help a little jolt to accompany the hiss of a gasp between his teeth. The thumb he'd had resting on the off switch cuts the light in less than the fraction of a second it takes him to shove the finger in his mouth and grimace—still he always forgets, it's never blood that hits his tongue, it's a nasty (in this case burning) chemical taste. Alright, so chit-chatting and drive-by thoughts don't mix when you're trying to be this steady. ]

[ More importantly, he's scrutinizing the back of her head for the damage report before she inevitably whips upright to look at him. Smiling weakly, his burned hand curls up against the hilt held curtly in front of him as he straightens up a little guiltily. ]

So uh— How short were you planning on going in the back again?

[ Oh, there is no way she'd miss a gasp of pain, not now with a fucking lightsaber in the picture. But she holds herself still until she hears the blade disappear again, because jerking suddenly so close to it would be a colossally bad idea. After she's free to sit up and twist around to aim a worried look back at him, though, that's exactly what she does. The question goes fully ignored. ]

What'd you do?

[ No sign of burn marks on him, so she reaches to check his hands instead, the next most likely suspects. ]

Man, if anyone was gonna be singed it was supposed to be me, you're fucking this all up.

[ Aside from how he's actually doing really well in the haircut department. Still, the guy gets himself hurt often enough, she really wasn't looking to add to the count. ]

Hey, just because you can doesn't mean you should, right?

[ Letting out a little sigh, he reaches for her outstretched hand, hooking the wounded little finger pinky-promise around hers. It's that distantly familiar blackish color right at the tip, just beside the nail, still stinging like a bit of a bitch, but definitely not as bad as it looks. ]

Come on, would one of your harebrained schemes be complete without me fucking it up at least once? Don't worry, it's not even one of the real bits.

[ He gives her finger a reassuring squeeze. Still working! ]

Edited 2016-10-28 00:10 (UTC)

[ She makes a face at his finger, twisting their hands around for a better look at it. ]

It counts if it hurts. [ She keeps ahold of his hand and glances up, looking decidedly guilty. ] Is that even gonna heal on its own?

[ The haircut is officially on hold, she needs some time to wallow in guilt a bit first. It's just a small thing, but seriously, how does she keep getting Sigma hurt in this stuff, even when she's finally able to get hurt? That's some kind of cosmic injustice at work. ]

[ Let's be real, "Cosmic Injustice" is Sigma's middle name. ]

Hey, I've had worse... I mean, this was cutting it close, but I think I'll survive.

[ Still smiling. It's just a small thing after all. The subtler roots of her upset go a little over his head, so, anything to get her smiling again. ]

I donno, it might? I think it'll have a better chance since it's so small...

[ After all, last time he'd burned his ABT, it had been... half his arm. This is nothing in comparison, but it's still different from a cut. They'll just have to find out. ]

If we stop now, everyone's gonna think I did a terrible job. [ Idly, before he pulls away, he'll raise their hands to lip level, proffers his a little closer to her. Kiss it better? ] ... Like seriously, it's not a bald spot but we're gonna have to really shorten it up back there...

[ She snorts, muttering a quiet appreciation of cutting it close under her breath. A good pun soothes the guilt a little. It means she's happy to oblige, dipping her head in to press a quick kiss to his knuckles. ]

Yeah, alright, don't give me a mullet. I'm happy to say they never went back into fashion, by the way.

[ She unfolds his hand to peck another kiss to the palm of his hand, then releases it to let it get back to work. As she shifts, combing through her hair to push up the next bit: ] I'll get you something nice after this, promise.

Thank god, because old sci-fi movies have been painting a grim future so far.

[ He leans in to land a quick kiss on the end of her nose before she returns to her seat, and he turns the saber back on while she combs out her hair. It gets a stern look for what it's done, but there's nothing fearful in it. He could've nicked himself just as badly with a normal knife if he was chattering away like he had been. ]

Or maybe you can cut my hair next, huh? ... I guess we'll still have to see if they have any scissors then, this might be a little overkill.

[ The blade waggles once before steadying once again with its original level of focus, getting back to the next section of hair she's got held up for him. No more worrying for either of them, he's got this. ]

Oh, shit, yeah, there's an idea. I do good haircuts.

[ Only by necessity — short hair demands frequent haircuts, but an empty wallet demands a lot of DIY. She keeps still, checking the mirror often to make sure he's on track, but generally speaking he's doing pretty good work. Those steady arms, can't go wrong. The rest of it doesn't take too much longer, and eventually she's sitting up again, running a hand through the freshly short hair at the back of her head. ]

Oh my god that's nice. Finally. [ She drops her hand to drop another pat, this one finding his knee as she cocks an upside down smile up at him. ] You're a fucking lifesaver, Sigma.

Edited 2016-10-28 03:22 (UTC)

[ It's quieter work, but it passes without further incident because of it, and when Ramir sits back upright, even he's gotta admit that it's really not too shabby for his first stab at cutting hair. It helps that she can pull off pretty much anything, but it sure isn't bad for the ego. ]

Yeah? Feel ten pounds lighter?

[ Setting aside the hilt of the lightsaber, he runs his own fingers through his handiwork, ruffles it a little, before smoothing it back out of her eyes as she glances at him upside down. ]

I do what I can. [ Chest puffing out a little like a superhero post-"all in a day's work" monologue, his hands drop to her shoulders, giving the muscles at the base of her neck a good squeeze to make up for the contortion act. ] You look pretty great.

I know, right?

[ Modesty has never been on her to-do list, but at least she's grinning up at Sigma rather than the mirror as she says it. That has to count for something. She takes a second to set her hand over his for a quick squeeze, and adds a just as quick: ]

Seriously, thank you.

[ Then she's hopping to her feet and away, digging through the pack generally tossed at the foot of her bed. ]

And... here! [ She holds up a, to all appearances, Swiss army knife. ] Ready for your turn?

[ Hey, it's a million times better than having to verbally chase a girl around to get her to accept a compliment, he's dated his share of those. Exhausting. Knowing that she's sexy is probably one of her sexier features, let's be real. ]

Anything for you.

[ Which may be as lighthearted as the kiss he taps to her forehead before she stands, but it's rapidly becoming truer and truer with every crazy little thing she asks. Or with every little knife she brandishes at him smiling. He blinks at it. ]

I mean, yeah. [ He laughs a little at being perplexed when he's the one that just seared her hair off with a fucking plasma longsword. Rounding the chair she'd just vacated, he takes her place, fluffing his fingers through his own hair. In all the months he's been here, it hadn't occurred to him just how long it's been getting. ] Hack away!

[ She slides in to stand behind him, smile dropping away as she looks over his hair. With a few flicks of her wrist the knife has unfolded into a small pair of scissors, and the comb reappears in her other hand. She pauses with both half raised, frowning mildly. She remembers how his hair looked about a million months ago, right? ...Mostly? ]

...Okay, hang on. [ False alarm, both the small scissors and the comb get stuffed into a pocket again. She drapes an arm around Sigma's shoulders, leaning down onto him to present her phone out before the both of them. ] Stop me when you see a length you like.

[ And up comes the photo stream for their viewing pleasure, set to display only pictures that its technology recognizes as involving Sigma. Most of the pictures of him in there are selfies she'd grabbed with him, here and there snapped of him solo or unknowing. They get less frequent the older they get, but there has to be one from far back enough that it's got the right length. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[closed]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject