2019-08-27 - Really Really Red

It's a lovely summer evening, despite the rain outside. As day eases into night, the small shop turns quieter after a busy day. Nicole is at her station, sweeping up the hair from her last client who must have just recently left. There is music playing, and as she sweeps, Nicole dances with the broom in hand, humming along to the poppy sounding song.

The bell above the door jangles cheerfully as another customer enters, out of sync with the pop song playing overhead. Sparrow hesitates a second, letting that potent lots-a-smells filter out and some fresh rainy air come on in before she actually crosses the threshold. It's a jeans and tee shirt kinda day, colors fairly muted, today's tee declaring KEEP IT RAD in stylized lettering across the front. Smiling as she approaches the counter, she watches Nicole, in no rush to interrupt the current performance.

The bell pulls Nicole's attention from the mess of hair momentarily as she looks up with a smile. Dressed in her work 'uniform', she wears black slacks, a scoop necked black tee, and upon her feet are a pair of black and white low-top converse sneakers. wide metallic bangles adorn her left wrist and a matching statement necklace is worn, dangling as she leans over. "Good evening. I will be right with you," she says as she sweeps the hair towards a central spot between stations. With her foot, she opens the wall vaccuum system and directs the mess towards it, making it disappear like magic.

After returning the broom to its spot, Nicole approaches the front counter and sweeps her hair behind her shoulders. "Welcome to Curl Up and Dye. How can I help you today?"

It's been years. Three? Four? Sparrow hasn't changed all that much since then, but her hair was almost certainly a sunny shade of orange the last time Nicole saw her. That smile's pretty memorable, though. "Feeling a little bit not like myself lately," comes with a dramatic, overwrought frown, sad puppy eyes and all. For all of two seconds. "Pretty sure you're the only one who can help me get back on track." Beat. "I need red. Like. Really really red. Like see me from the back of the club red." Eyes widen as she adds, "I swear, no one fucking recognizes me anymore," though that's surely a gross overstatement.

Nicole has likely seen Sparrow about town here or there, It's not a huge city after all. And word travels fast, so Sparrow probably has heard of Nicole's reputation as a 'damn good' if not the best hairdresser in Gray Harbor. She does Addington hair, after all. "I can certainly help with that." She checks an appointment book on the desk. "I am free now too, if you are ready to jump right in?" Brown eyes lift to look to the other woman. "I'm Nicole," she says as she beckons Sparrow to follow her to one of the sinks. "Are we talking Candy Apple Red? Fire Engine red? or like, a more crimson like red velvet with hints of dark?" She stands by a sink, pulling a smock from the cabinet above, waiting for Sparrow to take a seat.

Yep! There is a reason that Sparrow's here rather than some other shop or making a mess of her own bathroom. Nicole's reputation precedes her. "Definitely." No hesitation, no second-guessing. She follows deeper into the little shop, settling back in the chair in front of the sink as she explains, "Nothing dark. Doesn't need depth. Just bright, obnoxious, hurt your eyes, killer neon red." Hopefully, that translates into something actually useful!

"I assume you know the process," Nicole says as she flips open the black, light-weight, polyester smock then rests it gently over Sparrow. Snapping it closed about the woman's neck and tucking in some gauze around the collar for comfort, she continues, "Stripping the color from your hair to leave it light enough to take the red so that it gets that vibrant, all that? You sound like this isn't your first rodeo." Nicole grins and turns the water on, lifting the wand and testing it on her wrist, waving it back and forth in the sink but not yet touching Sparrow.

Sparrow proves perfectly comfortable with all the preparations, at ease in this chair, in this position. Yeah, this isn't her first time. "It's been a couple years," she admits with a little scrunch of her nose while she leans back and gets comfortable as one can while staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. "Thought I'd see what it's like to be a natural brunette for a while?" Her smile skews to the side a little as her dark brows lift. "Damned fun, lemme tell ya, but." She shrugs as her smile dims a little, a hint of seriousness creeping in. "Feel like I need to remind the world--" Or maybe herself. "--who I am, ya know?"

Standing at the side of one of the sinks towards the back, the dressed-all-in-black Nicole is talking to Sparrow of the black smock wearing, about to get her hair did variety while testing the water with the wand. "Ugh, this water will not warm up. It's so strange, always one of them, never the same.... Mind moving to that sink?" Nicole gestures with a tilt of her head towards one of the other sinks while setting the wand in place and stepping back to let Sparrow up. "Brunette was fun? it's a good color on you, have to say, but... hair should be an expression of who we are, or how we feel, or anything we damn well please, so if you are feeling red, I will get you the flamingest red possible. The world will not only be reminded of who you are, but, they'll see you a mile away!"

"Okie." Sparrow doesn't so much as bat a lash at the technical difficulties, easily finding her feet when asked to move on over to another sink. She plops right on down at the next one over, as indicated, and wiggles comfortably back into hair-washing position. "That's the goal," she beams up at Nicole, so pleased that she gets it, how she wants to pretty much literally glow, an unmissable blazing red beacon. "It's been alright, ya know, being low-key, letting people figure out on their own that I'm loud as fuck." But now's time to break out the warning sign again, it seems. "You ever gone neon?"

Jaime comes wandering on into the salon, dressed in a pair of old faded jeans and work boots with a tank top of dull army green stretched over his chest. He has a couple of leather bands around one wrist, a watch on the other, and his phone is in his hand. He taps out one final message and then glances around. Locating Sparrow, he heads back in that direction, not waiting for permission or direction. He grins at the pair as he approaches and gives an up-nod to Nicole. "Hey." Then he smirks at Sparrow and says, "Doesn't take long to figure out."

Sparrow doesn't straighten when she hears someone else arrive. It's not her job to care about that. It's her job to just lay back and let the magic happen. When that someone heads on back and addresses them, though, she can't help but steal a look Jaime's way, smiling wide enough that her dimples begin to show. She answers with a rather pleased accusation of, "Flirt." With a gesture to the seat she abandoned due to water problems, she invites, "Have a seat?" like she owns the place.

Once Sparrow is settled, Nicole makes sure the smock is all set in place before pulling up the wand from the sink and turning on the water again. Once she is satisfied with the temperature, she begins pulling Sparrow's hair back, making sure all of it is in the sink. "So your red hair will be the non-verbal siren. I like it. Me? No," she shakes her head. "Never neon. Some pastels on occasion though."

The bell jangles again, causing her to look up. She smiles, as she does at all customers, but seems to recognize this one, slightly, at least judging by the squint given as if that would trigger her memory.. "Good evening. I'll be a little bit here, but if you want to take a seat, Jaime? If I remember right? I can help you in a moment." But, the man comes towards the sinks. Nicole chuckles and says, "ah, a friend of yours," as she looks back down to Sparrow then nods to Jaime as Sparrow directs him to one of the sink chairs. She's not busy, after all. "Are you hear to socialize, or need a cut?"

"You like it that way," Jaime shoots back at Sparrow with a flash of a grin that reaches up to those muddy green eyes. He drops into the seat with the technical difficulties, sprawling comfortably. He grins and says, "Heya, Nicole." Yep, he remembers her name. He's got a habit for remembering faces, even if they don't know one another well. He considers for a moment, tipping his head to the left and then the right. "I could use a trim." He could use a trim. "What do you think?" he asks Sparrow, "Should I go neon green?" That smile just grows more broad. It's not likely. He's never dyed his hair in his life.

Sparrow shrugs under that black smock, high enough to assure the gesture isn't missed despite its obscurement, still smiling at Jaime. Nothing she can do about it. She likes what she likes. And, in addition to his flirtation, she rather does like that feeling of warm water through her hair, that pleasant sensation inspiring her eyes to close. Evidently, fluttery birds know how to relax now and then. "Fantastic for Christmas," she says of the neon green, dryly. "We can share the spotlight for the holiday season. For now?" She's probably not entirely serious when she notes, "I hear she does some amazing pastels," with a conspiratorial peek up at Nicole.

Her attention back on Sparrow, Nicole takes her time wetting the dark hair, especially when she sees the other woman's eys close in relaxation. "When is the last time you shampooed, and did you use conditioner?" she asks, pausing running her fingers through Sparrow's wet strands to look towards Jaime. "I could trim you up while she is setting. Up to you." With a soft laugh, Nicole nods, fingers back in Sparrow's hair. "I could do pastel, yes, or, if you are daring, but only a little daring, just a temporary overlay to give a hint of color in the right light."

"Nah," Jaime says, "I'm good," in regard to the color. "But sure, I could use a trim while her color's doing it's thing." Plus, then he's not just loafing in her shop taking up space without actually being a customer. He stretches out his legs and folds his hands on his stomach. "I'll let you be the flaming beacon onf color in the band," he says to Sparrow. "Speaking of which.. we should practice again soon." Then he glances over at Nicole and asks, "So, what's new with you? How goes business?"

"Uh..." Sparrow has to think about that, as if it's been forever since she washed her hair. It hasn't. "Yesterday afternoon and.. yes? Ish? Sorta. Two-in-one." Does that count? She makes a disappointed sound when Jaime declines even Nicole's pitch of something subtler, but her smile silently suggests a preference for being the only overtly colorful one on stage. "Definitely should. I, uh. Am entirely aware that it was sorta shitty of me to get us all together and then fuck off for a couple of weeks." It's almost an apology. Apology adjacent! "But had some things I needed to do before classes start. Should definitely be fucking off less from here out." Beneath her smock, something moves over her chest. She might be crossing her heart.

Smiling towards Jaime, Nicole gives a nod before looking back to the brunette's hair. "Business is good. Pretty steady most days. It's quieter towards the evening, like now, but, it's going well enough. Nothing much new, really, keep to myself mostly... though probably should get out of my shell more." Pausing to listen to Sparrow, one section of hair held in a hand, Nicole leans over to look at the woman's face. "Ah, okay then. Ready to start with the bleaching?" Idly, she asks, "you guys are in a band?"

Jaime shrugs his shoulders at Sparrow and grins, "It's fine with me. I had work to do. It's not like I was sitting around the house pining or anything. Garrett dropped by. Turns out we're practically neighbors. Chatted for a while. Didn't realize he's a park ranger. That's pretty cool." He doesn't seem concerned about her fucking off for a while, so the nearly adjacent apology seems unnecessary. He grins over at Nicole and says, "You should. Can't live your life being all work, no play." He nods when she asks about the band, "Starting one."

"Yes please," Sparrow chirps up at Nicole. Such manners! With the washing done and ready to follow the stylist's guidance, she turns a look past the edge of the sink at Jaime and agrees, "He's cool as fuck, yeah." Beat. "And it is totally alright and understandable if you were pining. I wouldn't think any less of you." Attention returning to Nicole, she tells her, "He's right. I like a very low work to play ratio, personally, but I know that's not for everyone." Then back to Jaime, "Seems like we're gonna have to have a show somewhere now just to make sure she's got an excuse to let loose."

"I suppose I just needed to have some solitude," Nicole says without giving much else by way of information. "I'll make an effort though, or at least an attempt." Looking down at Sparrow she says, "you can sit up for now. I am going to go in the back and mix the bleach." She does that, leaving them alone to chat for a bit.

"I'm sure you wouldn't," Jaime says to Sparrow with a chuckle. "Nothing wrong with that," he says to Nicole. "I get a lot of that on the road, though. Prefer to actually be around people when I'm in town. It's different, I guess, when you work with people all day long. Kind of the opposite scenario." He watches Nicole go before turning back toward Sparrow. "Yeah, we will have to have a show at some point. Once we figure out what we're doing. You ever hear from Runa?"

Sparrow watches Nicole curiously as she slips into the back to make with the chemistry, but she doesn't comment on that preference. Nor Jaime's when he shares his thoughts on solitude. He might get a studious look, but he might not catch it in time, her smile back in place by the time he looks her way again. For all of a second, anyway, before her nose crinkles. "Got a 'cool' to something I'd sent her, like, three weeks ago? Sounded almost enthusiastic, but nothing after." Her shrug seems a bit half-hearted. "Little worried maybe I steamrolled her? Like just taking charge of all of this? I can do that sometimes. Enthusiasm gets the better of me and I just do, ya know? Thinking is the enemy of adventure. Or something." She flashes a weird smile. "You give a listen to the list I've been building?"

Jaime does catch it out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn't seem to react to at at all. Instead he nods a little bit about Runa. "Guess I could see that. No reason she can't just meet us now and decide if she likes us or not? I mean, I won't be offended if it doesn't work out." He shrugs his sholders. Jaime is about as laid back as one can get without slipping into a coma most of the time. "What list?" he asks, clearly having either not having been paying attention, or having forgotten that there was a list that he was supposed to be listening to.

"Sure," Sparrow agrees about Runa. "If you can find her." That seems to be the problem, catching the rogue musician and stealing a little bit of her time. A faint frown precedes, "I'd rather have her than not, but I'd rather move forward with what's working for us now than wait forever for my high school hopes to come to fruition, ya know?" She even sounds serious, not her usually fucking around self. "I think we've got a good thing going, and you know you can fucking sing, so." Shrug. "If she comes around, great. But let's not wait." The high arch of her thick brows and return of her smile announces the return of her good humor as she finally gets around to, "And the fucking list I sent you and Garrett with some song suggestions. Not that we gotta cover 'em all or anything. Just what I'm thinking we could sound like, us three."

"Yeah, I get that," Jaime says with a nod from where he sits, not seeming to be too worried about it either way. He laughs a little bit when she says she knows that he can sing. "I've been practicing, just in case we're stuck with me. Since that's what Garrett said, too." He runs his fingers through his hair. Of course, he sings when he plays on his own, he's just always considered himself more of a guitarist than a singer. "I'm fine with not waiting." When she mentions the list of songs he says "Oh.. yeah, I need to check that out."

Sparrow drips, the dark hair not completely bound and captured spattering occasional drops on the smock or the chair. "You do," she confirms of the playlist. "I mean, it's either that or give me full creative control. And, really, I'm okay with that, but you don't get to complain when we're covering Arianna Grande." She's probably exaggerating. Maybe. There's no grin to give her away, the look she turns to Jaime rather... okay, mockingly serious. Probably joking. "And any time you need to practice your singing? You know where I live. My room's to the back right. I'll keep a window open and ready for serenades."

"I'll sing Arianna Grande," Jaime says, reaching up to pull his hair back into an extremely tight (and tiny) ponytail at the top of his head and opening his mouth as though he were about to sing, before just grinning and letting it fall back around his face. He snorts though and says, "Your neighbors would love me."

Sparrow laughs, delighted, at the incomplete Arianna Grande impression, the look in her bright eyes damned near expectant, like she's waiting for more. When it doesn't come, though, she doesn't seem all that broken up. "My noise complaint to field, pretty sure," utterly unconcerned with disturbing her neighbors. "Besides, who doesn't like a free show? Especially when it's good." Tipping toward Jaime a bit, she informs him, "I did notice you're good," only a couple weeks late, having not commented previously when he'd suggested it might be otherwise. Rather than dwell there--or anywhere--long, she redirects with a pronounced, "But!" and provides an alternative. "You can always come on up if you're feeling shy and need a smaller audience."

"Yeah, true enough. Not my neighbors," Jaime says, and that devilish grin that touches his lips likely means that there may be some drunken crooning beneath her window in her future, maybe even sober crooning, just for the hell of it. The danger of the easily amused and shameless. He raises his brows when she says she noticed that he was good. He shrugs his shoulders and grins. He may be shameless, but about to toot his own horn, he is not. "Shy? Have you met me?" Shy, he also is not.

Emerging from the back with a hair coloring bowl in one hand, stirring the contents with a brush with the other, Nicole announces her return even as she ius turning the corner. "Sorry that took so long. One of the other girls moved the bleaching agent to, of course, the last place I looked for it." Her steps take her to Sparrow's side again and she says, "so, ready?"

"It's decided," Sparrow declares, pleased. It might even be a proper challenge laid down, if that quirk of one eyebrow is anything to go by. Her wide smile turns from Jaime to Nicole as she rounds the corner, bright-eyed eagerness angled at the stylist. Really, the question's unnecessary. "You know it." As she settles back in, she looks up to the stylist and asks, "What's your favorite love song? Like the song that would make you all weak in the knees if some pretty boy or girl or whatever came singing it at your window at risk of waking all your neighbors?"

Jaime chuckles and nods, apparently accepting the challenge, if that broad grin is any indication. He crosses one ankle over to the opposite knee and settles in to watch the bleaching process, laughing when Sparrow asks that question of Nicole, glancing up and over to her to see what her response might be.

Nicole begins setting up the station just right, foils there, bowl of bleach mixture there, gloves are already on. She starts setting clips into Sparrows hair to be able to focus on one section at a time. At the question, she freezes. "Oh God... I don't even know anymore. It would take something amazing for me to feel like that again.. um... I don't know. The ones I think of are probably all cheesy anyway." She gets back to work, starting with the underneath hairs, taking one section at a time and brushing the bleach in from bottom up. "This has some conditioner in it so it won't hurt your hair as badly too. Won't get a bright blonde, but an orangey shade that will work with the red."

"Miss Nicole," Sparrow chirps up at the stylist after that bit of dithering. "I will have you know that I am a very big fan of cheese." Another shift beneath her smock might be her hand settling against her chest as if she were swearing a solemn oath. A little less seriously, after her eyes have fallen closed again and she relaxes into the work being done, she explains, "Besides, not all knee-weakening needs to be about love. Panty-dampening works too." So casually. Thank gods business is slow at the moment.

"She's pretty cheesy, herself," Jaime chimes in, entirely unbidden, from where he sits, with another one of those grins. Otherwise, though, he does not interrupt this important conversation about love/lust songs.

Continuing her work, section by section, moving aside the bleach plastered hair and letting out clean strands from the clips as she goes, Nicole chuckles. "I mean, like, At Last is a classic... I am partial of Future Days by Pearl Jam... I mean, there's a lot out there... Kinda avoided the whole L word for awhile." She pauses. "Oh, Panty-damepning? Insatiable.. by... shit, I forget his name... Bilingual by Jose Nunez... though it's so hard to find the best version of that... um...there's.. a few. A lot.. Probably have a bigger playlist of sexy songs than I do love songs..." She laughs too at Jaime's comment. "All the good people are though, aren't they? At least a bit."

"He's not wrong," Sparrow mutters, accepting that label without complaint. Her smile goes all wide and silly as Nicole starts opening up, babbling about music. She probably couldn't be the least little bit more pleased with herself when that redirection to the other L-word returns such easy enthusiasm. "That's true," comes for the last comment, casual confirmation of her qualification as 'good people.' With a little unsuccessful peek toward Jaime, she wonders, "You know any of that? I got some panty-droppers, but..." Doesn't sound like those are on her list, she she might need to tag out.

"That's not something I hear often," Jaime grins when Sparrow says that he's not wrong. He watches the process of the plastering of the bleach all through Sparrow's hair with a kind of idle interest. He shakes his head, though, when Sparrow asks if he knows any of those. "Nope, but I'm pretty sure youtube could illuminate me if I needed to." He holds up his phone and wiggles it a bit, but doesn't immediately go searching for any of the songs, at least not for the moment.

Pausing her bleach application, Nicole looks towards Jaime, lifting a shoulder to sort of brush at her cheek in an awkward way so as not to get bleach on her face. "Um, you might want to be careful, just, like, who is around, if you do. It's pretty sort of graphic." Distracted thoughts! "Ooh! Drive, by Melissa Ferrick, I think her name is, is another one. So old. I need new songs. The Wknd has a couple hot ones out." It seems that L word is way more easy for Nicole to talk about.

Wrapping the whole concoction on Sparrow's head in cellophane, Nicole slips out of her gloves and taps Sparrow's shoulder. "Alright, chica. Sit tight for a bit and let that do it's job." Eyes shift towards Jaime. "Ready for that trim?"

"Sounds like we've got some boning up to do," Sparrow croons over to Jaime, her attention still angled mostly toward the ceiling--or the back of her eyelids--until Nicole taps her shoulder and directs her upright. As she sits up, her hair all wrapped while the bleach sets, she offers fairly damned flirtatiously to the stylist, "Ya know, I can help you with that." There might even be a cheesy waggle of her brows.

"I think you missed the part where I have no shame," Jaime says to Nicole whens he warns him about looking up the songs on his phone, flashing her another one of those brilliant smiles. When Nicole asks if he's ready for his own trim, he nods and says, "Sure. Where do you want me?" He waits for her to direct him before laughing over to Sparrow, casting a smirk in her direction. "Boning up, huh?"

The bell of the door dings to let everyone know someone else has entered into the hair parlor, the bright, blue eyed Dylan coming to a full stop to inspect the interior. His simply white t-shirt has the faded remnants of orange paint that, despite his best efforts, just couldn't quite come out, and it matches well with his stone washed jeans whose knees have seen better days, probably on purpose. Slung about him is a messenger bag, and in his hands clings a sketchpad. One slow step is taken in, and then a big, large smile is flashed about the room upon that expressive face, clearly having only caught some of that particular convesration ongoing.

Gesturing Jaime towards her actual station, Nicole says, "meet you there." It's pretty obvious which one is hers, with photos stuck into the sides of the mirror. It's not too far away from the sinks, but of course, Sparrow is free to roam around too if she wants. She starts gathering the bleach items to clean up and laughs. "I was going to remark about the pun, intentional or not, as well." But then, she looks to Sparrow, perhaps slow on the uptake. "help me with finding new songs? Sure, I am up for that."

The bell jangles again and Nicole stops her steps towards the back and turns to face the front again. "Good evening. Hi. It's just me here this evening, but I will be with you in just a moment." Then off she slips to dispose of gloves and bleach and whatnot.

"Doesn't gotta be up," Sparrow notes, surely open to all sorts of directions, nevermind the feigned innocence in her wide eyes like she doesn't know what she might be implying. While she maintains her perch, letting the bleach do its thing, she brings her feet up onto the chair, legs folded, and slouches forward to drop her elbows to her knees. Probably not how the shampoo chair's meant to be used, but she certainly looks comfortable. Her lips part to answer Nicole, mischief glinting in her bright brown eyes, but the jangling bell cuts her off, attention turned toward the door. And staying there a minute. Her head, covered in chemicals and cellophane, tilts to the side as she stares at the newcomer. "I know you." It's been a few years. "Rink?"

Jaime gets up and heads over to Nicole's station and drops into the chair there. He's in a pair of work boots and faded jeans, a drab army-green tank top stretched over his chest. His hair is a bit long these days, hanging down almost to his chin. He clearly hasn't had it trimmed in a while. He pushes his fingers through it, pushing it back from his face, then glances over toward to the new guy coming in. "Hey," he says in his typical greeting.

When the hair stylist looks his way and says she's the only one here this evening, one brow arches up in an exagerated motion, those blue eyes going wide as he looks first to Jaime, and then to Sparrow, at first hard to tell from her current 'accessories' adorning her. A mischief laced smile, completely with pearly whites is flashed back towards Nicole. "Ok." He's on his way to one of those empty barber stations to have a seat and wait, before that name is spoken, and those eyes blink once. Twice. Three times at Sparrow. "Yes." Comes his answer to both her statement and question, which garners a wave that isn't just shared with the cellophane haired woman cheerfully, but Jaime as well.

Nicole returns and first looks to Sparrow, then passes her to head to Jaime. There's probably a waiting area, but, Nicole isn't too fussy. As she's getting her tools out for Jaime, she speaks to 'Rink'. "Hi again. I'm Nicole. In for a cut today? How can I help?" Standing behind Jaime, she leans down to look at him in a perhaps-too-close way, her hair draping down her arm. "Just a trim? Short on the sides, longer on top? What would you like?"

"I know," Sparrow says to Dylan, her eyes going all wide. "I'm undergoing a transformation to return to my original form after spending a couple years incognito among you normals." She lets that weird thought hang there for just a moment before offering clarification. "Sparrow." She started going by that at some point in high school, but in case that's not enough, she adds, "Phil. Cuter half of the Jones twins." Not that Corey isn't adorable, but c'mon. He's not her. It looks like she might say more, but she falls quiet as Nicole addresses him, her attention returning to Jaime, her smile easy, genuine. It's a good day.

"A bit shorter on the sides, longer on top," Jaime says, which is how it started before it had grown out and gotten shaggy. He doesn't seem to mind the too-close-examination, his lips twitching amusedly as he looks back at her. "I trust you. Make me look good enough to hang out with the cool chick." He nods over in Sparrow's direction. Then he chuckles and says, "I dunno. Corey's damn cute."

Dylan's eyes roll upwards at Nicole's question, trying in vain to see his own hair in indication of why he is there, but finally gives up with a heaving sigh. "Haircut." He stops shy of actually sitting down, instead starting to flip open the sketchpad before Sparrow's words cut him off. Clearly her name is remembered given the lopsided smile that graces his features, his voice crooning out in agreement, "Cuter." As for why she is there? That earns a sage nod of agreement, as if this is a completely serious, legit reason to be found in here. Down to his bag he reaches, tugging out a different sketchpad, and this one? It's tossed over towards the woman before his attention goes to watch with interest towards what Nicole begins to do with Jaime's hair.

"I'm not sure that's possible," Nicole says to Jaime with a wink towards Sparrow. "But, I will try." She get to work with his hair; smock on, cotton in place, misting hair with a spray bottle, snip here, snip there. Men's hair is so much easier, isn't it? As she works, she looks up towards Dylan, giving a nod. "Might be after I rinse out her bleach, is that okay?"

Sparrow's eyes half-lid as her smile goes a little wider for Jaime's direction on his hair style. One brow crooks upward as that same flirtatious attention is turned to Nicole to catch that wink, all lazily pleased with the general consensus. Not that she keeps that look long, eyes widening again a moment later as she points out for the guitarist, "He's damn straight, too." She even frowns crookedly as she appends, "Sorry, boo." When Dylan concurs that she's cuter, she gives him a head-tilted look that pretty clearly reads 'aww' without actually voicing it. But then there's a sketchbook, inspiring her to straighten so she can catch it and start flipping through. She leans back in her chair, legs still folded, as she browses, falling uncharacteristically quiet for the moment.

Dylan holds up the sketchpad that he entered with, positioning it so it faces out as he flips it open where Nicole can clearly see. It's kept just below his chin, so she can see his facial expressions. The first? It is a sketch of him with a mohawk. This garners a horrified, shocked expression from the man, a grimace of his teeth before he flips to the next page. This time? He's bald, and those expressive eyes go wide, his mouth falters into a sad, pouting look. No, not this one either. The third time is the charm as it shows a hair cut similar to what he has now, just trimmed up and styled a touch different, and it brings that broad, happy smile from the man. "This." The timing clearly doesn't bother him, a boucning, playful nod of his head up and down.

Pauses in her work on Jaime's hair to look at the sketches Dylan flips through. The show has her chuckling, and she nods at him. "You got it." She nods firmly one, then finishes up Jaime's hair, using clippers to even up the hairline at the neck and sideburns then dusting him off with a soft towel. "Look it over" she says, handing him a mirror before she returns to Sparrow. "Let me know if you like it, I'll be back after rinsing out Red here."

She starts taking the cellophane off of Sparrow's head, checking a foil or two. Satisfied, she says, "lean back and I'll whip these out, get you rinsed."

The deeper Sparrow gets into the sketchbook Dylan handed over, the more interested she seems, more time spent on the individual drawings, more expressive reactions to the weirder details she catches. When Nicole starts her way, she closes it up and holds it back out to the artist, asking him, "Why that?" Her gaze shifts toward Jaime, her grin skewing off to the side a little as she gives her head a playful wobble as if he's only looking so-so. Kinda alright. It'll do. Leaning back in her seat, she smiles up at Nicole as she closes her eyes, murmuring, "I love this song," for whatever pop nonsense just came on.

Nicole's response clearly pleases Dylan, and the sketchpad is left open to that particular drawing as he works on shrugging off that messenger bag, only briefly pausing to take the ntoepad back from Sparrow, tucking it back away into his messenger bag. Her question has his brow furrowing. Complicated, clearly. "Ask later." As if here were a magic 8 ball! Besides, she's busy getting her hair rinsed out and transformed, and it gives Dylan the opportunity to sling that messenger bag against the chair he was next to, while the one showing off his hair? Well, it's kept carefully against him as if it were a protective shield.

The music playing currently -is- of the Pop variety, but not exactly mainstream. More of an indie pop; mellow but catchy, relaxing. She hums along, dancing slightly as she works on Sparrow's hair, dropping the foils in the sink and releasing the orangey blonde hair, far different than the brunette she had when she walked in. "Your sketches are rather amazing," she says with a side glance towards Dylan. "I'm not very artistic," says the hairdresser, which is kind of art... with hair. "I take some photos though.. Nothing major."

Jaime laughs when Sparrow points out that her brother is straight and says, "Hey, that doesn't mean I can't just /appreciate/ the cute." He lifts up his hands in a defensive motion to the drummer, flashing her an amused smile. Then he glances over at Dylan's sketch pad, chuckling a bit at the expressions that go along with showing each image. He takes the mirror that Nicole hands him and nods his appareciation of her work, "Looks good." He hands the mirror back, then and waits for the dusting off to be finished before he pulls himself up and out of her station so that the next person can take his place. He smirks over at Sparrow when she gives him that so-so wobble and sticks his tongue out at her. Very mature. He plops himself back down out of the way while Sparrow gets the bleach washed out of her hair.

Dylan listens to Nicole, his head tipping dramatically to one side, and then those eyes dart from the hair dresser to Jaime's hair, back and fourth a few times. "Pretty." He finally concludes reassuringly, though it's hard to tell if it is in reference to the hair cut or the woman who has done it, or maybe both. Once the other man has moved to wait for Sparrow, the artist takes his turn into the seat, flipping through a few more pages of botched haircuts before he gets to a blank one, a small charcoal pencil produced. Up he straightens, so nice and tall, and it is only a brief glance towards Sparrow before he offers a conspiratorial whisper to Nicole, clearly meant as playful banter. "No curlers." A single finger lifts, stabbing himself in the chest, clearly wanting not to have that cellophane in his hair.

Flashing a smile towards Jaime when he approves of his cut, Nicole nods. Hands dip into the sink to lift the pile of foils and dump them in the trash before she begins to rinse out the hair with long, slow sweeps of warm water from the wand. Glancing over to her station, and Dylan again, Nicole chuckles. "I promise no curlers, or clips, or do dads, or even whatsits." Ah, banter, supposedly hairdressers are good at it. Nicole tries, at least. "So, what kind of music does your band play? or, will it play, rather?" This asked towards Jaime.

Jaime shrugs his shoulders when Nicole asks what type of music the band will play, chuckling. "I don't think we've really figured out our sound yet. We're going to be doing some cover stuff. Supposedly there's a list that Sparrow's been putting together, but I haven't actually seen it yet." Or she told him where it was and he forgot during their couple of weeks of not getting together again after their first jam session. "Guess we'll see. We only got together the once and decided to do this thing, so .. " It's about as well-planned as one might expect.

A relieved sigh comes from Dylan at those assurances from the hair dresser, and those blue eyes watch her closely as she sees to her other cilents. "Hate whatsits." And then he falls quiet, his brow furrowing, tongue sticking out as he begins to sketch. Now and then he glances up at this or that, happily letting the time go by as he waits. But it's that turn in the conversation that has him putting two and two together, peering up briefly at Jaime. "Band name?"

"Ah," Nicole says over the water drenched hair of Sparrow. "You guys will have to let me know, and if you do manage that small gig." She bends just a touch in the direction of Dylan, which isn't much more than an inch, really, with what she is doing, and stage-whispers, "Whatsits are the absolute worse. Any hairdresser that tries to get you to use a whatsit? Tell them to stuff that whatsit where they can feel it." She nods, then starts to ring out Sparrow's hair a bit before grabbing a towel and running it over the woman's head.

"Don't have one yet," Jaime laughs. "This band is way more of a concept than an actual thing at the moment." He runs his fingers through his newly-shorn hair, satisfied with the length. "When we get our shit in gear and actually have a set and get a gig, we'll let you know so you can come out and see us," he promises Nicole. He raises a brow at the whatsit discussion but doesn't join in, just chuckling a litte bit.

Pausing briefly in his sketching, Dylan looks towards Nicole at that stage whisper, a mock serious face put upon as he whispers back, "Up their," And of course, the thought ends there after two words, leaving it to the creative imagination where he was going to suggest. It's Jaime's words that has a warm bit of laughter returned, head bobbing up and down in understanding before Dylan quips back, "In time," As if everything will always get sorted out eventually in these matters. Bit by bit that sketch begins to come together, a more surrealist view of the main area of the shop from what glimpses can be seen of it as he works away.

Wrapping the towel around Sparrow's head, Nicole leaves her be with a tap before moving back to her own station, where Dylan now sits. "Conceptual Whatsits. There's your band name." The wink she gives to Jaime likely means she is joking. "You better, though. How else am I going to stop being a hermit?" Before touching Dylan, she asks, "ready for your cut? Just a bit of a trim up. You will be done in a jif." She gets a peak of the sketch he is working on and goes, "ooh. I can't wait to see that when it is done!"

Jaime nods in agreement with Dylan, "Yeah. We'll figure it out eventually. It's a causal thing for all of us. Garrett and I have fulltime gigs and Sparrow's got school, so it's not like we need to rush. Nobody's rent is hanging on getting out and performing. It's for enjoyment." Which is fortunate, because at this rate it's going to be a while before they ever actually perform. He grins at Nicole and nods as though making a mental note. "I think my other suggestion was Lowered Expectations or something like that." He can't exactly remember what it was at this point. He can't see too much from where he's sitting, but he does glance over at the sketch curiously.

"It's yours," Dylan assures Nicole of the sketch, sitting a touch taller to preen when she touches, clearly at the ready and trusting in her quite capable hands. It's a soft but amused and approving scoff at the name that Jaime suggested, one worthy of repeating, "Lowered Expectations," That surreal sketch comes together to draw in elements of the trade: barber seats that seem to be propped up by sissors, wash stations that are molded like curlers. There is even one particularly dark corner of the room, with a vague few lines that are probably the 'whatsits' that shall not be used. And in the middle of it starts to form a person - Nicole likely - that appears to be visualized as nothing less than the Hair Fairy. "A hermit?" He asks, blinking a few times as his eyes try to strain around to see her without moving his head to make her job more difficult.

Nicole runs her fingers through Dylan's hair a little before getting started with a new set of sanitized, wiating-to-be-used tools of the trade; scissors and comb, mainly, for now. "Lowered Expectations..." she also echoes. "I kind of like that, actually." Her lips curl into a smile as Dylan's hair gets a spritz of water. "How often are you out on the road?" she asks, keeping conversation flowing before she says to Dylan, "really? I'll get a frame and hang it at my station." She gets to the snipping part, taking her time, making sure each snip is even. "Yeah, hermit. I don't get out much, but thought, maybe it is time to change that. Home to work and work to home all the time can get a bit.... tedious. Monotonous... blah."

Jaime gets up from where he was sitting to look over at the sketch a little more closely, though not to loom too close or encroach on Dylan's space. He grins a little as Nicole takes shape in the picture as the Hair Fairy, then he goes to settle back into his seat to wait for Sparrow to have her dye done. "Pretty often," Jaime says, in regard to how often he's on the road, "But I've been doing mostly local stuff lately, not too many long hauls. They can keep me away for a couple of weeks at a time, and I've kind of wanted to stay home with the family more often." He grins over at Nicole and says, "We'll need to break you of your hermiting and get you out some."

That sketch is easily seen by any, with the windows having combs for shutters, even though the beauty parlor surely doesn't have any in the first place. So to does that person come into being, mroe and more realized as the hair stylist herself with fluttering wings and sissors in one hand, curlers in the other. "Tedious," This word causes Dylan's face to scrunch up as if he'd just tasted something sour, before his own recommendations come gushing out, well, for him. "Parks. Beaches!" He pauses briefly, hand withdrawing so that Jaime can get an even better look at the sketch, not shy in the least about sharing what he's been working on. He just barely stops himself from giving a big nod towards Jaime, a momentary look of sheepish apology cast towards Nicole for any difficulty caused with that near head movement.

Fingers playing in Dylan's hair, pulling to a certain length, snip snip snip. "I was on the road for awhile, not in a truck like that, just, you know, on my own. It was nice sometimes. Completely sucked other times. If you are around more, and I hermit less, maybe we'll get to know each other more than passing in the halls at High School." Smiling at Jaime, before sneaking another peek at the sketch, Nicole nods. "I should probably enjoy a beach before it turns to fall..." When he almost nods, Nicole pulls her hands away, habit so as not to accidentally cut the person. She smiles at him, a silent assurance he did no harm.

"Too bad there aren't any real good beaches in Gray Harbor," Jaime says. Part of the reason it never really became a booming tourist town. "But there's some down the coast if you drive for a while." He grins at Dylan's almost-nod and Nicole's quick dodging of a potential ear snipping incident. "Sure," he says with a chuckle. "Figure better late than never, right?"

A soft cooing noise comes from the man at those fingesr that brush through his hair, eyes fluttering closed for a moment once it is clear no harm has been done. "Wooorth it," Dylan cheerfully concludes about needing to drive for a while for the beach, even as his eyes snap back open, and the finishing touches are put upon the sketch. Ever so carefully the page is pulled from the pad, and ever so pleased look settling on his features as the pencil is tucked away into the spiral spine of that book.

"I agree. Worth it." Nicole finishes Dylan's cut the same way she did Jaime; a little buzz with the clippers to clean up the hairline at neck and sideburns, then a dusting off from a new soft towel. She hands him the same mirror and asks, "well?" Glancing at Jaime then over to Sparrow, she says, "maybe we could get a group of people to go. Like, an all day beach day, fire pit, cookout, sun and sand... All the things."

Sparrow chirps, "On it!" ready to take on the party planning.

Jaime grins and seems to agree with Dylan, nodding. "Worth it." He watches as the finishing touches are put on Dylan's cut and gives a thumbsup. Looks good. He considers for a moment then says, "Yeah, definitely. I'd be down for that. Could see if Joey and Everly want to go." His twin and cousin, respectively. "I bet they'd be down for that. Just need to figure out a babysitter for the kiddo, but I bet we could rope someone into that."

Dylan holds up the mirror, and then holds it upside down. And then sideways, though of course it always reflects the same thing. And finally a big, beaming smile comes from him. "Perfect!" Up he springs from the chair, stepping around to place the sketch down on her work station, careful to make certain that it doesn't get in anything that might make a mess of it. It comes with a handful of bills, enough to cover the cost of the cut and a good tip, complete with a bit of change too. "Should go," He offers up, before fishing his phone out of his pocket. A few presses of a button as picks up that messenger bag, pausing to flash his number to Sparrow. "For later?"

"Oh! You have a kid?" The question is asked to Jaime as Nucole watches Dylan check his hair out in the mirrors. She can't help but grin a bit. "Glad you like it, and thank you so much for the sketch. I might have a frame at home, if not, I'll get one and display it there," she points to a spot above her license on the wall, "for everyone to see. Thank you so much." Head swiveling between Sparrow and Jaime, she sets aside her tools to be cleaned, uses some hand sanitizer, and brushes her hair back. "Sounds like we'll have a great day soon. Searching through her drawers for a hairtie, she pulls her tresses back loosely and returns to Sparrow's side. "Alright, missy. I hear the Fire Engine Red coming this way..." It will take awhile to get the red in, done, dryed, perfect, so Nicole gets busy setting up to do so.

Jaime lifts a hand to wave to Dylan when he seems ready to head out, and there's a momentary pause when Nicole asks if he has a kid and he says, "Everly's daughter. She's four." Then he lingers behind to wait for Sparrow to finish having the dye put in, rinsed out, and her hair finished before heading out with her.