[open/active] If you want something done right...

[godofcologne]

Characters: Thomas, Ponies?, Open!
Time: Daytime
Location: Barbershop off the Blackstone Lobby
Content: Thomas slips back into old habits. And is grumpy because Deadpool set his hair on fire. Feel free to just stop by and chat. Or demand he do your hair. Whatever works.
Format: Prose
Warnings: Beware of Thomas: Sarcasm, innuendo, etc.

Comments

[huntingmemory]

Sam didn't bother replying to the message. Probably better not to since it was public and every chance of Dean seeing it. Last thing he needed was his brother causing more issues for Thomas.

And, well, Dean would tease him about needing a hair cut, anyway.

He blinked as he stepped in, looking around. "You know, I kind of thought you were joking."

[godofcologne]

The sound of the barbershop door swinging open was enough to warn Thomas of the newcomer, so he finished tossing a handful of combs into a glass jar of disinfectant before turning around. Sam's obvious surprise made him chuckle, a little cynical, mostly self-deprecating, as Thomas gestured to the row of empty barber stools.

"Which part? The part where people don't trust me with scissors or the part where I'm actually hanging around killing time?"

[huntingmemory]

"Possibly the scissors." Actually, the whole hair cutting thing, but Sam was not going to say that. "I like the hair. What made you cut it?"

[godofcologne]

He wouldn't have been the only one to find Thomas doing hair unbelievable. Harry had too. And so had pretty much the entirety of the White Court. Thomas shrugged, last time it had been a faerie assassin's flaming arrow. All in all, he wasn't sure if that was better than what had happened this time.

"Deadpool set it on fire with a grenade."

[chosenfreedom]

Dean popped his head in, and smirked a little. "That figures you'd be all Mr. Blow Out."

So one of the motels had an ad for it, sue them. Not like he'd watch. Just if it was randomly on or some shit.

[godofcologne]

"What can I say? Some of us are blessed with looks and confidence," Thomas drawled back, tossing a bristly brush halfway across the room and neatly into the old-fashioned porcelain sink. He eyed Dean with a smirk. "Don't tell me you're one of those secretly-into-pampered-grooming types."

[chosenfreedom]

Dean snorted, "No, I'm a wash and wear guy. Like to keep it simple." Sure he'll primp and practice his 'blue steel' expression in the mirror. But he's not gonna go and do any of that fancy froo froo crap.

[godofcologne]

"Figured, but with some people, can never be sure." He leans back against the counter and gives Dean an insinuating a knowing grin as he crossed his arms. "So just here to point and laugh?"

[venusloveshock]

The pop idol was no stranger to being doted on and given spa days... But here in Chicago it was different... They were all so busy trying to leave that it felt awkward going to be pampered... Or given something as simple as a trim.

She stood in the doorway of the barbershop, wearing sensible tennies, white cargo pants and a band t-shirt. Her hair was pushed over her shoulders and held in place by a baseball cap. Her hands were shoved in her pockets and she looked like she was second guessing her decision.

There was still the faint sting of where the glass had shattered into her back, but she was starting to get better at masking the pain. Bags under her eyes suggested she hadn't slept so well since waking up from the coma...

[godofcologne]

Whether it was luck or some vampiric sense, Thomas turned towards the door just as Minako stood hesitating. He finished drying his hands on a towel and tossed it on the counter with a grin. "Hey there, beautiful," he greeted, waving Minako into the barbershop proper. The banter came back to him easily, even without the need for the French accent. "Just happy to see me or you need some relaxation?

[venusloveshock]

Minako had been thinking of walking away before he would know any different... But that plan was squashed when he turned to look at her, grinning. She smiled back a little awkwardly and shrugged her shoulders. "I figured it would hurt to try and relax..." she admitted.

She took a step forward, but even after telling him that, she still found herself second guessing.

[godofcologne]

He held up both hands, empty, to Minako as a placating gesture. Whatever had her wavering, he could see it, if not understand why it was there "Definitely not, given everything that's going on," he said with a grin. "Assuming you're not going to bolt on me."

[sailorgenerous]

Rarity had seen the post on the network and thought it to be a wonderful idea. A salon day wasn't quite the same as a spa day, of course, but little details such as that wouldn't prevent her from enjoying herself to the fullest.

She entered the salon, spotting the person who'd made the post and trotting up to him with a winning smile. "Good afternoon! I saw your announcement and thought I'd take you up on your offer - I'm about overdue for a trim as it is. Now, do you know how to style as well? Because that would be lovely."

[godofcologne]

The white unicorn pony who trotted in got a surprised (almost gaping) stare for a moment. This was new. The decision was unconscious and he didn't even notice until the words were already out of his mouth, laced with a heavy French accent.

"Oui, darling. Zee washing, zee cutting, zee styling. Toe-moss, I can do everything for zee petite pony," he said, coming up to the pony and waving her into the rest of the barbershop proper. "Where should we start, mademoiselle?

[sailorgenerous]

Rarity had long since become accustomed to the stares that accompanied her arrival on the scene - not that she appreciated them, mind you, but she no longer found them to be incredibly rude. People would be people, after all, just as ponies would be ponies. She was certain a human would be stared at just as badly if one ever showed up in Ponyville.

The accent, on the other hoof, was a surprise. He certainly hadn't sounded like that in his post - had he suddenly become French in the two minutes it had taken her to arrive at the shop? "The accent is lovely," she waved a hoof at him, still smiling, "though you hardly need it to impress me." She followed him into the shop, taking a seat in one of the chairs. "Just a simple wash and trim, if you'd be so kind - just enough to get rid of the split ends, if there are any." There shouldn't be - Rarity took very good care of her mane and tail - but with things going the way they had in the city and with the stress of sleep deprivation, she might as well take precautions. "We'll talk about

[godofcologne]

Thomas grinned, unabashed at the mention of the accent. "Kind of 'ou to say so, darling, but it eez not everyday zat anyone appreciates it. Zee Americans, zey do not understand. Zey expect everyone to sound like zem, no? When in Rome, do as zee Roman," he prattled lightly, tilting the chair back towards the sink. How the pony had managed to sit in a chair just wasn't worth thinking about. Pony magic.

He began running water and running a brush through the pony's long purple mane. "Oui, zee wash and zee trim, simple enough. Very beautiful 'air, miss...?"

[crownedwithfire]

There was a very large man ducking in, tail cutting the air behind him in lazy swishing -- not unlike a large cat who has settled himself somewhere to enjoy the sun.

Except there was no sun. There was clouds and rain and misery and nightmares. But there was also a guy who cut hair and he was also a guy who knew a lot. Hellboy considered that he hadn't seen a barber in ten years and thought this was a good combination.

Seeing the handsome, well groomed man -- well, that must be Thomas.

"Evenin'," he rumbled. "Don't suppose you know what to do with a guy who hasn't seen the inside of a barber shop in ten years, do ya?"

[godofcologne]

Of course, Thomas' specialty back when he worked the salon had been overpriced haircuts for superficial trophy wives, but he could probably make do for Big Red. "Never had the opportunity before," he answered flippantly, leaning against the counter as he tossed a bunch of combs into a jar of disinfectant. "But I'm sure I can muddle through."

[crownedwithfire]

"Sounds like most of life, there. New oppourtuntise, no idea what to do with them, bull through. Barbershop as metaphor for life?" He chuckled, even as he reached back with one hand and undid the knot he wore his hair in -- it was actually quite long, worn tightly wound.

It also didn't get let down often.

"I'm Hellboy. I'm guessing you're Thomas, then?"

[godofcologne]

"Better metaphor than a coffee shop. Or a fire," Thomas replied. He chuckled a little as Hellboy let his hair down. He gestured to the closest chair. "Guilty. And you should really find some nice six year old to braid your hair. I hear they still like doing that sort of thing."