A Hot Mess, Indeed!


delia_icon.gif luka_icon.gif raquelle_icon.gif trevor_icon.gif

Scene Title A Hot Mess, Indeed!
Synopsis Luka's first outing outside the walls of Eltingville has him worried. What do these Americans do with illegal Russians? Answer: Pimping Vodka.
Date May 6, 2011

Cambria Salon and Day Spa

Tranquil and Fabulous wrapped up in warm and inviting colors and the sleek lines of Japanese architecture…Cambria Salon and Day Spa is a fashionable paradise. Dark almost black wood paneling has been used through out the salon, fresh flowers are found in glass vases and exchanged with flower shaped candles every day at 4 PM. There is a different theme for just about every day of the week, but nothing set in stone. There are 8 or so individual work stations with leaf shaped mirrors and comfortable chairs. There are a couple of private rooms for waxing, facials and massages and the like including a private station and office for the owner. The reception area is designed for comfort with the black seats and couches, glass coffee tables and glass/wood reception desk. Over all the salon is edgy and sleek, it is Cambria Salon and Day Spa.

It's possible that the harmonic chime for the front door of the salon and day spa need batteries, either that or the woman singing along with the melodic and relaxing little tune is a horrible singer. Of course Delia Ryans refuses to believe that she could be off key and therefore it must be the chime that is causing the grimace of pain on her companion.

He's a tall man dressed in cast offs that were scrounged from places most people don't want to hear about. But they're clean, Delia spent a long time washing them, along with passels of her own clothing. She's dressed in a breezy floral sundress with a cardigan wrapped around in her shoulders. Something perfect for the seventy degree weather but not too obnoxious, like the Juicy bottom sweat pants of the woman they were walking behind on the way in.

Her red hair is pinned into a knot at the nape of her neck and wisps have been left loose to lessen the severity of the style. Once well inside the doors, she slides into a seat to wait to be called up, rather than heading straight to the counter to demand service. This is sort of the place that's above her class.

Well, this is… interesting.

The tall, somewhat stocky man in the slightly-too-small t-shirt and the slightly-too-big jeans runs a hand through his hair self-consciously. Possibly because he's spotted the seated dryers and it's sinking in why they're here. It must just be for her, though, so he's content to stand behind her uncomfortably. Still, that unruly hair of his could at least use a trim and a style.

Cambria's environment is professional, but there's a relaxed feeling to how the stylists in their black jeans, skirts or shorts and black shirts…along with their black aprons with the salon's name and such on it, they wonder around, serving clients. Doing nails or coming out of the waxing room, setting curls…etc. Talkative and cheerful even, but there are only 4 total that can be seen that are actually doing hair, the rest deal with the other spa things.

The front desk lady is chipper at least instead of sullen like the former, her hair dyed a shocking neon red, but it is cut in a punky way that works for her as she waves a hand and clicks off of her facebook page. "Like…hi!" She greets. "Do you have an appointment or something?" She carefully removes her cup of coffee and empty donut paper off of the desk as well.

Trevor isn't one for beauty salons or mani-pedis, but it's funny what one nice date with a really attractive woman will do for a man's self-perception. The typical barber shop cut isn't going to cut it this time, and he knows it. After years on the streets, Trevor needs a makeover. He enters Cambria's to the sound of the chiming melody and takes a look around. Ugh…so not his comfort zone. But he musters his courage and stands in line, his eyes looking the prices over that are listed.

Looking up from her chair, Delia's face flushes a light pink and she points to herself when the punkish woman addresses her. Glancing at Luka, she turns a somewhat timid smile to the receptionist and shakes her head. "No? I uhm… Do you have any appointments today? My friend here… his hair got burnt and I haven't had a real haircut for .. uhm… over a year?" She has curly hair, it's quite possible that her split ends are bordering on atrocious.

Giving a glance to the man in the line, she bows her head a little and hunches her shoulders forward a meek posture compared to the rather self assured ones that Luka's been witness to at home. Her home. She stands slowly and arranges the cardigan around her shoulders a little more properly before stepping toward the counter. Her silk flats are noiseless as they cross the tile floor, as much as the woman can't sing, she does have grace.

Luka looks at the shrinking violetredhead and then at the receptionist, bafflement clear on his face. Is she afraid of the woman with the strange hair? He glances behind at Trevor, too, before looking around the whole salon, the peppy stylists, the spa treatments… Perhaps she is just afraid of this salon. He certainly is.

Trevor caught a glimpse of Delia as she glance back, offering her a slight smile, without showing his teeth. He had been using those whitening stripes with some success, but he really needs professional dental work done at some point when he gets the money together. Showing his teeth to the lady might cause her to shriek. His mind wanders a bit as he stares at an unremarkable part of the reception counter. He waits patiently in line, staring into space for the time being, a slight smile on his face.

The receptionist looks a bit puzzled as she looks from person to person, peering around to the men before looking back to Delia and just clicking a few things on her computer before opening up a big book and picking up a sparkly purple pen. "His hair got BURNT, oh my god, my friend Thena or whatever, she so had the same thing happen with a curling iron and then she like had to get her hair cut and she tried to get it cut like Britney Spears cuz that's like her Idol and stuff so she was totally bald." She's being…sympathetic. "Can I have your names? And like…" She points to Trevor as well. "OMG! Welcome to Cambria's Salon and Day Spa! Can I have like totally your name too?"

"Uhm.. my name is Delia and this is my friend uhm… Louie… Louie Yougoogley, like the thing from Zoolander? They totally copied his name." She casts a quick glance and a much easier smile to the man still sitting in the chairs before waving him up and adding offhand, He doesn't speak much English."

"Yes! It's exactly like that!!" The redhead nods emphatically to the receptionist as she tells the Britney story, "Only he burnt his hair using a television set.. He's uhm… He's a cable guy! But not the kind that shows their butt crack." She turns quickly to Trevor behind her and gives him a rather reassuring smile, "Don't worry, his pants fit." Another, this time a little more insistent, wave is given to the middle aged man in the chairs before she turns back to the receptionist. "And can you do something about his pores too? I can see them."

Trevor's attention comes back as Delia mentions Louie's pants as he gives her a slightly confused look since he was only half paying attention to the conversation. "Well, I appreciate not having to see another man's crack," he says with a grin. His attention turns to the receptionist. "The name's Trevor. Basically, I need a lot of work." Understatement of the century. "I'll start with a hair wash and trim and a manicure please."

The receptionist just looks ever so confused, but in a smiling and wide eyed kinda way as she loks from Delia to Louie and then to Trevor and then back to Delia. "Oh…Oh I see um. Poor guy…scary name, burnt hair, and he can't speak English? Like he'd totally be on Tyra's talk show." She sighs and then nods to Trevor, scribbling something else down. "Normally, I'd say like Porsha could handle it but….uh…you all need to all of you, all three, go back to the back office, it is the silver door, knock 3 times and say the words Hot Mess real clearly like and then the person who can really help you will invite you in!" She beams.

"Really?" Delia never thought she looked that bad, sure a haircut… but.. Shrugging, she takes Luka by the arm and leads him toward the back of the salon, seeming more confident with every step forward. By the time they reach the back office, she's standing tall and proud, stretching a little more than her regular height of five-ten.

Turning to the man she's with, she takes him gently by the shoulders and turns him toward her so that he can look her in the face. Because when speaking to people who can't understand you, it's best if you speak very loudly and enunciate… they're like deaf people that way. "Remember to do exactly every thing these people tell you, Oh-Kay?!" She drops her hands from his shoulders to give him two thumbs up complete with a cheesy smile. Sort of like Buddy Jesus. "Oh-Kay?"

Luka is busy looking around, but when Delia brings him away from the counter, the tall man follows, gazing around as they go. Still, they get to that door, and she's getting his attention. Somewhat confused blue eyes meet hers, and he looks like he's trying very hard to understand her words. He does understand one! He returns her cheesy smile with a hesitant grin of his own, mirroring her thumbs up. "Oh-Kay." Yes, he knows that word. What are we okaying about again?

Now it's Trevor's turn to look confused. Knock three times and speak a code phrase? Is this where CIA agents get their hair done? He nods to the receptionist, "Thank you." Trevor follows the group to the silver door in the back and waits as Delia knocks. He can't help but get a little tense. Going into a beauty salon by himself was uncomfortable enough, but now it seems he needs special attention from someone in this back room with the secret code words. Well, his appearance does need a little TLC, so it doesn't surprise him too much once he thinks about it for a moment.

On the other side of the door is the sound of somebody singing softly before the door swings open, leaving the tall, black haired man…today his emo-fringe is dyed an electric blue shade that matches the laces of his docs. However he's standing there wearing a dark blue bathrobe, a black and blue thong covered with glittery stars and holding a very large cup of coffee and he just stares at the three people. "…"

There's a pause before he steps aside and gestures for the three to enter. "I was just about to bitch about being sent a hot mess before 1 PM…but dios mio, come in come in..I was just finishing up with the gettin' ready ah…" His office…is huge, and there are a couple of stylist chairs, a shampoo bowl and such in there, along with mirrors on the walls. "Come in, come in babies…do you want some coffee?"

Delia can only gape and try to keep her eyes up on the man's face, rather than the glittery thong. Unfortunately her vision doesn't go up that far because she's caught on the sparkly rings endowing the manmaries of the stylist and spa owner. "I… uhm…" And she shoves Luka forward with one deceptively strong arm. "He needs help. I just need a haircut. Maybe a uhm.. manicure." Pedicure, facial, massage, she probably needs the works but can only afford so much unless they have some sort of charity program.

"I have enough money for him, definitely. Really all I need is a haircut." Luka gets another bright smile and a thumbs up, just one this time since her other hand is firmly pressed to his back to make sure he doesn't get away.

Despite his height, despite his stockiness, Luka is really a softy. A simple man, with simple interests, and simple hobbies. Just a humble man from Russia. Which is why when the door to the salon is thrown open by a tall, blue-haired guy in a thong, his mouth drops open and he openly gapes at the stylist. His voice, generally of a quiet, deep timbre, creeps up to eke out an "Oh-kaaayyyyy?" His life has been so strange since coming to America. This was the last thing he ever expected. Ever.

And Deliya isn't whoring him out or anything, right? I mean, there was that whole thing with the door in back, and… Wait, clearly this isn't a salon. It's a front for a male prostitution ring! Is he going to be a mail order groom now? He'd heard something about that, once! "Howdy, sorry I speek Russian, where is toilet?" he garbles in his thick accent, taking a step back. But then Deliya is urging him forward, and his outright astonishment turns to a nervous smile. "Howdy? Oh-kay?" he hazards weakly. Maybe if he goes through his whole vocabulary, they'll understand what he really means is what the fuck is going on. Hey, it's about as useful as over-enunciation.

A look of complete shock crosses Trevor's face as he looks at the man that greets them. No, don't look there…dammit! Now he's scarred for life. Oh God, no! What did he get himself into? But before he can turn and run, he finds in horror that his feet carry him forward into the room like a cow following the herd to the slaughter house. He might have been less put off by the stylist if he were more dressed. But he was here now, trapped with others sharing in his fate. He just shakes his head in response to the coffee question and remains in shocked silence. "Uh…I just need, um, a manicure and a hair cut." Screw the shampoo and anything else he had planned! The less time he spends back here, the better.

"…" Raquelle just rubs a hand over over his face. At least he's had time to put on his make-up for the day, concealer hiding freckles, eye-liner in place and he waves the people in with a slow shake of his head. "Right. Come in, come in…sit down, find a seat, I need to find some pants because…" He looks between Luka and Trevor. "I'm so about to start pointing fingers without actually using my hands and it isn't cold." He winks to Delia and shuts the door behind the people with a soft chuckle. "I need names, I can already see your problems just lookin' and…" He looks to Luka again and gestures to the mini-fridge. "I have water, sake, and some juice in there…help yourselves, I'll go get the pants." He turns to head towards the back of his office.

"Uhm.. I'm Deeeelia," the redhead drawls, the smile frozen to her face from fear. Like the men, she has no idea what to expect from the salon owner. "This is my friend Louie… uhm.. this is the guy that was standing behind us in line… I don't know his name." When she gets nervous, she babbles, and the redhead is plenty nervous right now. "I need a haircut," she repeats shyly, the flush on her cheeks taking away some of the confidence she gained just walking to the back. "See there's this guy, right?" Of course. "I don't want him to touch my hair and be all 'ew it's like straw'."

Trevor glances at the redhead as if he's been betrayed. He was perfectly content (or as content as can be in this situation) with just hiding behind the other two, but she just had to call him out! "Umm…Trevor," he finally replies. "Basically what she said. Except there's a girl involved." Got to add that last part. Don't want to give this guy any ideas…especially when he'll be touching his hands in a few minutes. As soon as the refreshments are offered, Trevor turns to the mini-fridge. Sake equals alcohol, which he could really use right now. He grabs the bottle with a nervously trembling hand and almost takes it all the way out of the fridge before he catches himself. No! He puts the sake back and grabs an apple juice and breathes a sigh of relief as he closes the door. This is another one of life's tests to try to make him cave. As whacked out as this guy is, he's not going back to the booze again. He takes a seat in one of the chairs. He's doomed anyway, might as well get comfortable.

Back of the office, bathroom door shuts, Raquelle bustles around in there, carefully removing the thong, opening the door a crack and tossing it of the bathroom before continuing the process of tugging on his leather pants, lacing them up and listening to what is being said. Thong, bathrobe, things of the past! The shirtless man comes out of the restroom wearing a black fedora at a jaunty angle and places his hands on his hips, looking to each person in turn.

A button is pushed and the lighting in the room goes down with a club like effect of lights and club bass beat music starts playing as he drags a chair closer to the others and a box of donuts is removed from behind the desk and put within reach. He gets a clipboard (it is purple and black), a glittery purple pen and a pair of glasses that he wears so he can look over them. "Awwww, how cute. Ya'll are worried that havin' bed head before you get all nasty and natural will turn your respective honey bunches of funtimes off so you've come to Uncle Raquelle to get you all squared away!" He looks to Luka. "You, cutie. Come and sit. Come…Eeeeaaaatt." He worries his bottom lip before he gets a brilliant idea. "Vodka?" That's as much Russian as he can think of.

Jaw. Drop. "Oh! No no no… we've just— No bed head— I mean, we were room mates but no. I mean— uhm— we held hands?" And poor Luka is thrown to the lions/wolves again when the redhead guides him toward the chair. "Louie here needs most of the work, see he got burned pretty bad. I don't understand what he's saying though, I thought he was speaking Spanish when I first met him? But he's not, he's Russian. Like.. from Russia Russian. Not like in a hurry rushin'."

At least the man's future pimp looks good, right? It could be worse, he could look like… a homeless guy. She met one once, gave him a few packets of Sanka. "I figured that he could use a little trim, right? Because he's all, zippety zappety and stuff."

A thong comes flying out of the bathroom. And not long after, so does the blue-haired man, in tight leather pants and a hat. And then there are club beats, and lights, and yes, this is definitely not Russia anymore. It's not validating papers for the government, or building chairs, or reading books in his flat. He's come to America, and it's all boiled down to this: his leather-clad pimp in a backroom showcase. Or maybe Delia is his pimp, and Raquelle is his client? God only knows. Luka certainly doesn't.

He lists forward as he's gestured at, and sits in the chair, completely uncertain what to do. Women, he knows what to do with women. Men? This is beyond his scope, and creative thinking — which he's not too great at anyway — isn't going to be very helpful. And there's that other guy here. Is he the test, or something? Oh, god. Best just ride this out, so to speak, and see what happens. And get back to Russia as soon as humanly possible. "Wudka pozhalsta," he manages, in response to the question, and there's the faintest pleading edge to it. Still, even Delia can see the somewhat shell-shocked quality to the man's face. He looks like he's going to some horrible death.

Now that Raquelle comes out wearing something a bit more suitable, Trevor relaxes slightly. That is until the club lights and music start up, adding a new dynamic to the odd situation he wasn't planning on. "Umm, well, we just went on a first date…sorta. I really like her, but she might be way out of my league. I think the…nasty and natural…may be a ways off yet." Trevor pops open the lid of his apple juice and takes a sip. It doesn't calm his nerves nearly as much as some sake would, but it'll have to do.

Raquelle writes something on his clipboard, brow furrowing and expression thoughtful as he taps the pen against his lips, listening to Delia and eying her head for a moment before looking between the two guys and then back to Delia. "Held /hands/? Well well well, aren't you the naughty little mix." He drawls softly before chuckling softly. "We'll get you a wash, deep-condition, trim the dead-ends and then style." He points to Luka, getting up for a moment to bend over his desk, groaning softly the edge of the desk digs in to a sensitive part of anatomy but he comes back up with a bottle of Vodka, which he hands to Luka. "Hablas Espanol?" He asks experimentally, smoothly slipping into the language. "Welcome to my salon, don't worry…we're gonna fix your hair and your face." Then back to English as he nods slowly to Trevor. "Well. When I met my boyfriend it was after he and I insulted back and forth in a panicked argument in a grocery store and I almost beaned with a box of lucky charms. I think we went on 3 or so dates before I finally let him use the handcuffs. So I totally understand wanting to go slow. Trust me honey, you're cute as can be, we'll get you washed, trimmed up and your nails done and you'll be ready to get back to wooing." He sets the clipboard aside, cracking his knuckles. "But first! We exfoliate, time to get the masks on darlings." He gets up to head to his supply closet and start pulling out facial mask ingredients. "I'm thinking…something warm and vanilla like…"

Her cheeks redden a little more when she's called out on her ~naughty~ behavior, or lack thereof. Quickly she opens her mouth to defend herself in that regard but closes it just as quickly when she raises her hand to tug at the pendant resting against her throat. "Uhm… I… uhm… okay." Delia doesn't really have much to say, she just finds a place to sit and makes herself comfortable. Crossing one long leg over the other, she tugs on the hem of her dress to make sure it's pulled down passed her knee and there's nothing untoward being shown off to the room. A.K.A. pulling a Brittney.

Luka takes the bottle and look for a glass. But there is no glass, so he stares dumbfoundedly at the bottle for a long moment. Is it polite to drink straight from the bottle in America? He's nearing the point of not caring. So he unscrews the lid and chugs a few hearty mouthfuls. Vodka is, really, not his favorite alcohol. But any alcohol will do.

When Raq speaks spanish to him, Luka looks vacantly at the hairdresser. He knows this. Hold on… "No…no habla ispanskiy?"

Trevor almost chokes on a mouthful of apple juice at the mention of handcuffs. He regains his composure after a couple of coughs later. "Thanks. I could really use the help. I kinda let myself go for too long. Luckily my mom beat some manners into me, so that helped out a lot on the first date."

Raquelle slides a cart/tray of supplies towards his 'guests' and where they are seated, pushing another button on a small remote and the music changes to more calming and tranquil beats and he inhales…exhales deeply, smiling and turning to each person. "That dress is so cute on you honey, Delia was it?" He shakes out a sparkly purple cape to drape around her before shaking out the next to drape around Luka…and moving on finally to Trevor as he shrugs his shoulders. "Ahh…Luka…wow." He just stares. "What have you been doin' to poor Louie here? I know he has a shitty name when it comes to getting bullied but…haven't you seen that new show? Exuberance Club? They sing and dance and have milkshakes thrown in their face because their not popular or like coc-err…anyways, when they get bullied, they always get the best solos." He grimaces. "I really hate that show." Then he pats Trevor's shoulder. "You're a good man." He moves back to his cart.

The young woman beams at the compliment, lifting her chin toward Trevor in a manner that's a little bit too self centered. "Yes! Delia, Delia Ryans, and… I… Well.. I…" She stammers, losing her confidence again when she's admonished for renaming the Russian man. Her shoulders slump forward and her posture sinks a little, "I didn't do anything to him… I don't understand what he's saying half the time and how am I supposed to know what Russian sounds like compared to Spanish? Just because I have two room mates that are Russian and my boss is Russian and my tutor is Russian it's not like they speak Russian to me ever… except for my boss he taught me how to ask where the bathroom is… I can say that in Spanish too so I totally knew that he wasn't asking for the bathroom in either Russian or Spanish because I know both of those."

She stops herself and turns her lips down in a pout as she watches the Russian man take a swig from the bottle. "You really think it's a cute dress? I got it at a consignment store."

Luka sits stock straight in the chair, too uncomfortable to relax. The sparkly purple cape isn't helping. He finally chances a glance to either side of him, and sees Delia and the unknown man are getting similar treatment. He gives Delia a somewhat pointedly worried look, but otherwise… well. Vodka time! Swig.

Trevor takes notice of Delia's strong introduction but rather weak finish with curiosity, but he really doesn't know her well enough to say anything about it. His eyes wander to Luka and the bottle of vodka he holds. Vodka's not his favorite, but he still can't help me stare at the bottle for a moment as if entranced. The pat on his shoulder breaks the trance. "Thanks. I try." He says simply, eying the bottle one last time as he takes a sip of his apple juice. He glances around the rest of the room, trying to get comfortable with his surroundings.

"Awww, of course I think it is a really cute dress." Raquelle takes his time, wrapping up Delia's head in a towel, quickly and efficiently so he can begin smearing stuff on her face, fingers massaging and so on as he chuckles and listens to all, looking back to Luka and tilting his head to the side as he takes a deep breath and nods to Trevor slowly. "Alright, I'll get you all set up with masks, so when I'm workin' on you individually, the others will still be being taken care of." He worries his bottom lip and nods to Luka.

The talkative young woman instantly quiets when the mask is smeared on her face. She closes her eyes but gives Luka one last thumbs up before relaxing completely in her chair. They do have salons in Russia, right? It's a burning question on her mind but one that she can't really afford to ask due to the fear of cracking the goop all over her face. She doesn't want to wreck her pores or anything.

Somehow, stuff getting smeared on Delia's face is much more normal to Luka than, you know, all the rest of what has happened. Why yes, there are salons in Russia. He knows of them. He has never been to one. But he watches Delia's treatment, somewhat fascinated.

Trevor Watches Delia getting her face goop put on. This'll be good for him though. Not even lotion has touched his face before, so his skin is in definite need of treatment.

Raquelle continues to massage and goop up Delia's face, pausing only to murmur softly. "You can still talk and such honey, don't worry about that." He winks and then moves to start working on Luka's face, raising his voice. "PORSHA!" And an attendant arrives after a few moments. "Take Trevor here to the steam room, gotta open up his pores a bit honey…then bring him back when he properly…softened up for me will you?" He smiles and looks to Luka, wrapping a towel around his head as well before starting the application.

"Really? Oh good, I'm not good at keeping quiet for too long." Not that Delia doesn't try but when she gets nervous she tends to babble on and on. She shifts underneath the cape fluffing it up a little and watching it flutter to settle back down over her body. She does it again because she just likes to see how it lays down.

Her head pivots to watch the other woman take Trevor out the door and into another area of the salon where he can continue his treatment, giving a little sigh as he leaves. "It must be so sad… do you think he's homeless or something? Because if he is, there's places in Eltingville that would probably be really affordable, I think sometimes you can even get them for free."

Luka eyes Raquelle a little as he gets nearer with the face-goop-stuff. But at least he starts to relax enough to let the application happen. Although, when Raq raises his voice, it makes the man jump, startled a little. And off Trevor goes into a land unknown… and Luka wonders, for perhaps the zillionth time, what the hell he's gotten himself into. At least it sounds like Delia and the strange man are having pleasant conversation.

"I think he's a nice man who needs a haircut, some skin care and his nails done so he at least looks well groomed." Raquelle offers with a soft laugh. "But he's got his own path and stuff to follow." Then he nods to Luka. "Relax…" He murmurs softly, massaging the man's cheeks and chin and such as he applies the cream and hums softly.

"Oh… I was asking because he said he let himself go and he went on a date so he's obviously not married and that's when men let themselves go, right? But then again if he's homeless and he's dating someone he's probably dating another homeless person or something… probably." It's Delia gossip or maybe just idle chatter as she guesses the lives of the people around her. Sort of like judging what's in the shopping cart in front of you at the market.

"OH! Guess what? I have the most exciting news ever~" Raquelle is a salon person, so he's probably in the know about things like this. Celebrity gossip and all that, "I have a signed copy of Mean Heat! I met Gladys Potter!! Isn't that exciting? She said my copy is like only the second ever that she's signed. I hope that she'll write more, I asked her, even gave her some cool ideas of what Jessie should do… unless she writes the sequel about Dusty but I don't think it's as exciting when they're written about the hero instead of the heroine, do you?"

The tone of Raq's voice carries more than the actual words, and Luka does relax a little bit. At least enough to allow the procedure to happen. He lets the foreign sounds of American English wash over him while Delia chatters. She sounds very excited. Perhaps there's a party? That's grounds for excitement right?

"Mmm hmm," Delia argues, as she extends one leg down to the floor to turn her chair so she can watch the Russian man get his hair washed. "Maybe she'll write a book about two heroes then, I can ask her, she said I'm her biggest fan." The last bit is made with a great amount of pride as she pulls one of her hands out from under the cape, examining her fingernails. While they aren't extremely horrible, they have taken a beating from all the gardening she's been doing lately.

"I was going to apply for a job here once, but I'm really not as pretty as all the people you have working for you. I walked in one time? And there was this girl here, brown hair? Yeah, she's gorgeous." Just a tiny bit of envy is let loose in regards to Raquelle's employees. "Anyway, I got a job at this other place, I make little keychains out of dried apples. They look like little shrunken heads."

Luka seems a little confused, but he's obeying Raq's gestures and such. So he finds himself with his head back in the bowl, singed hair ready for washing, while his face is busy… what, what is it this is doing, moisturizing? Luka has no idea. He's sure it's… important? And Delia's still talking… He's starting to recognize the timbre of the talk, too, and he chuckles under his breath, "Babushka…" It sure sounds like gossiping chatter, anyways.

Raquelle's fingers are strong get gentle as he works the shampoo through the damaged locks and even massages Luka's scalp as he works, squinting at Delia with a tilt of his head. "…pretty as…oh baby, this is not a place you work because you're /pretty/. Did she tell you that? Cuz I will totally chew her out, I can't believe I had somebody who didn't want to apply because she though she wasn't /pretty/ enough?!" He just looks shocked nodding to Trevor. "Welcome back baby, I'll be right there…gotta finish washing Burn Out Locks over here…"

"Oh! No no… I didn't even bother asking.. I was too nervous. She was really nice." The fingernails that Delia was inspecting are suddenly forgotten as she waves her hand nervously to dissuade the salon owner from tearing a wax strip off one of his employees. "I just saw everyone here and .. well I didn't want your business to suffer because you had someone like me sweeping hair or whatever. Besides, I don't know how to do anything here anyway…"

Trevor listens to the conversations going, trying to catch up to speed. "There's more than just looks that make someone beautiful, don't let anyone else tell you otherwise," he says, taking a sip of his apple juice. "And even some pretty people can be really ugly on the inside, and it doesn't take much more than a ten minute conversation with them to tell the difference."

"All you need to work here is a love for people, a willing spirit, and the ability to pour coffee and order Chinese." Raquelle drawls softly. "Unless you're trying to be a stylist, then we help folks go to school for that." Then he rinses Luka's hair, adding more conditioner and rinsing that out as well in time, finally wrapping a towel around the man's head and wheeling him back where he was before bending down to kiss the top of his toweled head. "You wait right here baby, we'll get your cut done soon." Then he points to Delia. "Gonna wash her and get her set for her deep conditioner and then we'll get your hair washed and then go from there." He blinks to Trevor. "Wise wise words…and so so very true."

Delia giggles when the Russian man is the lucky recipient of a kiss at the top of his toweled head. Sure it's juvenile but she's also more than a dozen years younger than he is. Besides, a kiss is the perfect break in for the years of prostitution he's looking forward to. "I'm actually trying to be a doctor, nurse first, once I pass my boards. Then I'll be an honest to goodness RN, then I won't have to worry about anything anymore. Unless they ban evolved people from the medical profession… like flying. Did you hear that evolved people can't fly anymore? Well not all of them but like I have a friend that can turn to fire, she's not allowed to fly anymore, not even if she's negated. Isn't that sad? Like.. I can understand if they don't want her on because she's like a walking firebomb but if she's negated that's just not fair."

There's a kiss. On his head. Well that seals it. Years of prostitution it is. Luka stares at Raq, brows knit in confusion over his baby-blues, but as the man moves on to Delia, he just goes back to his own internal world. But he mutters something that sounds like a Russian-lilted "Americans."

Trevor chuckles at Luka's reaction to getting kissed by a man. The talk of Evolved catches Trevor's attention. "That's not right. That's like taking a part of someone away, like telling a pro quarterback he can't pass the ball anymore. That sounds like some sort of civil rights violation to me." He lets out a sigh. "But I guess that's what this country has come to…"

Raquelle takes a deep breath and then another deep breath at the mention of evolved and flying and such things, frowning a bit. "Evolved, gay…people will find any reason in the world to discriminate and make you feel bad for being born a certain way ya know?" He wheels Delia over to the bowl, starting the water and leaning her head back. "I hope you become a doctor…it'll be good to have a fabulous and trust worth doctor to take my daughters to see." Then he nods to Trevor. "See you…yeah, I like you." Then he just eyes Luka for a moment. "Oh Vodka you too cutie, vodka you too." He smirks and turns back to the process of making his guests /fabulous/. After all, he's a pimp now.

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