Cut My Hair


delilah_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title Cut My Hair
Synopsis Why should Sable care if Dee has to cut her hair?
Date August 22, 2010

Octagon: Else and Delilah's Apartment

The apartments of the Octagon are among some of the most prime pieces of rental real-estate in New York City. Bright, open, and clean, these apartments are all painted an eggshell white and feature floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a sweeping, unobstructed view of the East River and Manhattan skyline. Hardwood floors spread from wall to wall and through the spacious bedrooms and private laundry rooms complete with washer/dryer utilities.

The open-concept kitchen in the apartment features stainless steel appliances, polished granite countertops, cherry finished cabinets and ceramic floor tile with all the convenience of a modern kitchen. The bathrooms are finished with classic subway wall tile and porcelain floor tile in bathrooms with elegantly designed corner-set curved showers wproviding more spacious shower area along with porcelain pedestal sinks.

Each apartment comes in two or three bedroom designs, each with spacious walk-in closets with individually controlled heating and cooling. The apartment is also set up with free Cable TV and Internet hook-ups in multiple locations.

It's become far from uncommon to see a diminutive, dark haired figure springing from the bus and jogging, guitar case slung over her shoulder, up to the front steps of the Octagon apartment complex. With a consistency the celestial bodies could envy, and with an enthusiasm never once dampened, Sable makes her visits to Delilah, her past nervousness replaced by a simple confidence and subdued expectation. She would be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to 'more', whatever that would even mean, but for now and for some time she's seemed more than content.

She's seemed happy.

She's also seemed sort of shaggy of late. Too often she's puffing her bangs from her eyes during the regular guitar lessons she's been providing Delilah, and while more hair means more to ruffle and more to grab onto, depending on context, it's starting to look overgrown, like a garden badly in need of weeding.

Maybe it's out of respect for this botanical metaphor, in deference to Delilah's heritage, that Sable, this visit, comes with more than music and makeouts on her mind. She tugging at the hair at the nape of her neck with a frowning displeasure that lingers between the time she knocks on Delilah's door and when Delilah opens it. When she opens it. Which, Sable hopes, she will. It is about her usual time, give or take fifteen.

Samson's usual noises crop up, shuffling bumping, thumping. He is waiting there for Sable when Delilah reaches over him to pry the door open. She is long at official zeppelin stage by now- Sable may or may not have made a joke. Delilah's dresses have, for a time, been accented by leggings of some sort, usually in patterns or light colors. Lots of that as always. She grins first, waving Sable on inside. "Hey! You're early today. Not too busy?" She steps around Samson again, who seems to be very understanding and moves out of the way.

"I just got back from town, I was making some shower lists. I think I'll have it instead of a birthday party. 'Bout a month before he's due, so it should work."

Any fun Sable may have poked at the great ship HindenDee has been safely couched within terms of admiration. And, in truth, Sable does seem to have an appreciation for Delilah's maternal physique. As someone deeply, deeply critical of parents and parentage, she has evidently been saving all her approval for Delilah's specific case. Cracks may have been made about her 'earth mother' charm, and how she embodies it by being 'roughly th' size 'f a planet', but every last one delivered with a wide grin and an admiring rub of her belly. The flailings Sable may feel from the creature that dwelleth within may be Walter's attempt to defend his mother's honor from such jibes, but maybe he knows he's getting out soon. Maybe he's just getting impatient.

Sable may also make comments about Dee's 'two moons, waxing to full'. But really, there's no need to go into any detail. We trust that both we and Delilah are, by now, quite aware of the kind of person she's let into her life.

Sable gives Samson a respectful nod and a pat on the head, retaining the friendly relations she understands as a necessity, him being the man of the house. "Yeah, Sunday ain't th' busiest 'f days, y'know?" Sable says, sidling in and lifting up to place a kiss right on Delilah's lips. "You look beautiful. Every time I see y', I'm bowled right th' fuck over all over 'gain." She grins, "Got a favor t' ask. Been sorta agonizin' a bit. Matter beyond my usual, like, areas 'f expertise."

Delilah prefers to think the former. He was already fighting dragons. As for the type of person she has let into her life, she is all too aware. Sable is Sable is Sable. Dee has to bend just a little so Sable isn't crawling over various obstacles, returning the kiss and planting a second onto her cheek, lips curling into a wide smile after. Samson gives some licks to Sable's wiry fingers before wandering past his owner to the kitchen, tail wagging heartily. Potentially to eat or drink something.

"Really? I feel pretty damn fat sometimes. Then I remember it's not me, rather. My face is sure getting rounder though." Her hands come up to press at her cheeks. There is some truth to the matter, though overall she has only gained the usual weight that women of her state are ought to do. She was tall to begin with, so at least it is spread out. "Oh? What can I help with? You know you can ask." It doesn't sound like something too dire… but then, it's Sable.

"I love that y've got some plump t' y', darlin'," Sable says, bouncing a little on her feet, her mood experiencing that noted increase it tends to in Delilah's presence. "Fuckin' adorable. Whasstheword? Some Jew word f'r it… starts with a zee," she snorts, "Sorry, a 'zed'." Sable's nose wrinkles, "Aw, whatever. Bottom line is, I'm gonna make a pass at y' sometime this evenin' so watch out."

Yes, it is hard to tell when Sable is taking something very serious very lightly, or something that most people would consider very light very seriously. Her priorities have an extreme skewage, compare to those of many. Squares, one and all, Sable would claim. "I was wonderin'," Sable says, "If y'd mind, like," she runs a hand through her hair and tugs it up, making the spot above her crown stand on end, "cuttin' my hair. Whatever I look like, well… guess it's you that I want t' look good in th' eyes 'f, so…" she lets her hair go, "figured, why not cut out th' middle man?"

"Oh, you." Delilah gives Sable a quick, weak pinch on the thigh, skirting off before the shorter girl can strike back immediately. Dee takes shelter behind the couch though, standing on the other side and keeping a jokester's gaze on her friend. "That's all? I was thinking it was something odd." Odd is as odd does. Sable's hair is all poufy from her raising it up, and Delilah chuckles. "Sure I can. I've cut hair before. I always liked your pixie hair."

"I'm supposing you want it kept short though, right?"

Sable sees Dee's attack coming, but Lilah is clever - there is no instinct in Sable that would cause her to evade any thighward motion by a pretty girl. There's actually, sadly, a moment's pleased light in her eyes and then- "Ow!" the yellow eyed girl says, skittering back, but too late. She wrinkles her nose. "That ain't right. Pinchin' comes later." She moves to the other side of the couch, staring across the interceding space suspiciously. "Y've got mischief in yer eyes, 'n' in yer fingertips too, from th' feel. Sure I c'n trust y' t' not make me look a fool?"

The compliment, though, immediately mollifies her. She pushes off her shoes and hops onto the arm of the couch, perching, grinning. "Aw, thanks!" she says, "yeah, yeah, gal. Short, if that's how y' want it. It's you I aim t' please. Make me a pixie 'gain, if it suits yer fancy. I mean, y' c'n make it odd if y' like, but just know that I'm gonna be at yer shower, 'n' I'll tell everyone that you were th' one t' cut m' hair, so… it's yer pride at stake, too!"

"I can put a bowl on your head and cut it?" Delilah puts her hands on her hips, rocking on her feet smartly. "But I'd cut it for real after, I swear!" Samson in peripheral vision likes it when she is playing, even if not with him. Wag wag wag.

"I've cut enough hair to know what I'm doing." The redhead takes Sable's face in her palms, and smushes at her cheeks. Sable is adorable too! Look at this face. "Maybe we can comb it back like a greaser and roll up your sleeves."

"That shit ain't funny!" Sable says, glowering, "A bad haircut c'n do a love affair in! Tryin' to act all appealin', 'n' all y' get is laughed at!" She shoots a glare at Samson. "Aw, y'all are gangin' up on me. Swear, swear, sure, sure…" she folds her arms, "play with m' heart 'n' m' head much as y' like, but my body's gotta get it's due too, dig?"

Sable's look turns baleful as Delilah squashes her cheeks, and she sticks her tongue. Nyehhh. "I don't sthing Elvith…" she mumbles around her tongue.

Delilah pecks Sable on the nose. Smooch. "It's fine, I'm just being silly. We'll get you going in no time. Like a superstar." She shifts away to make a path to the bathroom, where she immediately begins rooting around in the shelf behind the mirror and under the sink. Lots of clanking. Samson stays with Sable, head tilting and ears perked up. Well? Are you going!?

"You have such soft hair too, it falls so nice when it's short."

Again, instant mollification. Sable bites her lip at the smooch, and was likely moment away from snagging a kiss of her own from Dee when she finds herself left for the bathroom. Well yes, one supposes that hairstyling requires some equipment. Sable gives Samson another look, peering at him, interpreting that tilt and perk. Interpreting correctly. She pads over to the bathroom and leans in to see… what's she doing?

Delilah's compliment actually brings a shade of pink to Sable's cheeks, unfaded by the time she arrives at the doorway. "Aw, hell…" she says, those two syllables of disadvantage, "…thanks. I mean… from you, that's a fine thing t' hear. Y' know how I love yer hair. I ain't gonna say it's the first thing about you I noticed, 'cause it ain't. I noticed all 'f you. 'cause it's all 'f you t'gether that really gets me. But yer hair," she leans, setting her cheek against the doorframe, smiling with utter fondness at Dee, "damn but you redheads do a number on me."

Delilah has simple things for this, a comb, small scissors, a towel for sable's shoulders. She stands up to put them on the sink, smiling coyly over at Sable. "Do we now? There seems to be a lot of us lately. Do we have you under a mesmer?" Her voice grows somewhat smooth at that, and she pauses to deliberately toss her hair.

"Have a seat in the barber's chair." She motions Sable to sit sideways on the closed toilet, expertly swishing the small towel around her neck. She totally knows what she is doing! Serious.

Sable bites her lip, eyes narrowing in momentary mischief of her own. She may not know what a 'mesmer' is, but she can figure it out via context… she thinks. Must be some kind of crazy altered state or, like… you know… trance? She's very close, actually. Probably because Delilah's dead on. "Quinn went 'n' dyed her hair red," she says, "I'm surrounded. It's fuckin' lovely."

The yellow eyed girl runs her hand through her hair again, both taming it a little, and saying farewell to what will soon be gone. She sidles over and takes her place on the porcelain throne, legs set wide apart, hands on her knees. "Y've been with a gal before, eh?" she asks, a detail she's assumed for some time but never actually inquired about, "that or yer gifted, natural-like." A rule, apparently: sitting in a stylist's chair, however ad hoc, creates an urge to gossip, to dish. Even in Sable.

"Do you think I'd be as comfortable if I hadn't fooled around before now?" Delilah says this while leaning over to look at Sable in the face. "There were a couple girls I was friendly with in the trailer park, first. That is a terrible place for teenagers if I ever saw one. We were all over each other sometimes. I tried to not get sucked into that though. As everyone got older there were more drugs."

"My turn. Has it always just been girls?" Good question. Delilah turns around to wet the comb and start running it back through Sable's dark hair. She does this continuously as she speaks.

"I ain't gonna try 'n' peg you," Sable says, ocre eyes finding Delilah's umber ones, "mebbe it just found you, yer comfort. Dunno. I'll believe miracles from you, darlin'," she grins, "so far y've been one long miracle t' me, like I said. From day one, year 'n' a half ago."

Sable's eyes close as the comb runs through her hair. "Depends on what y' mean," she says, keeping still, entrusting her head to Delilah's hands, "I've only ever loved gals, if y' mean it that way. But I've done shit with guys. I dunno. Mebbe I liked it, 'r thought I liked it, at th' time. Kissin' at least. Mebbe. But after that first time with a fair lady's lips…" she smiles a little, giving a small snort of laughter, "There just wasn't no fuckin' comparison."

"So… 'm I th' most, like… uh… 'serious' y've been with a gal?" Sable inquires, one eye peeking open.

Delilah smiles at Sable's notes on finding her niche market. Her hair has been mostly slicked back at this point, sogged, though not quite enough. Still going. Perhaps Dee is making a time of it. Samson comes to lie in the doorway, slumping over with his head on the cool tile.

"I see." She pauses at the next round. "Well. This. Whatever this is, anyway." Feel proud, Sable. "I can't think of something to ask right now, but I like this game so far."

She does! Ever so proud! Sable cannot, in fact, prevent herself from smiling with said pride, a warmth rising in her chest that says everything about her attachment. "Don't gotta name it 'til it's got a name," she says, in a tone that would be serene if it weren't just a little bit smug. "'n' that's fine, darlin'. I got questions still. Tell me, then, girlie," her eye closes again, "worst breakup? If that ain't too dark a territory when yer close t' putting blades near m' ears."

"It's fine." Delilah intones, assuring. "I was never in many serious things, really. My first boyfriend and I were quite close though, it only lasted a few months or so. I was fourteen, he was sixteen. Neighbor boy in the trailer park. He's gotten out of there since, I still talk to him. Isaac Rodriguez. He has such beautiful brown eyes."

Delilah finally thinks Sable's hair wet enough, giving it a quick combover and getting the small scissors onto her fingers. She starts at the back where she had seen Sable fidgeting with it.

Sable's hair suffers for lack of conditioning. Shampoo is about as complicated as she gets when it comes to hair care. Still, it's easy enough to work with, fine and soft. It's clear that Sable enjoys the attention, particularly from Dee, and her expression turns to one of catlike contentment as Delilah starts to work.

"Y' don't fall easy, then?" Sable asks, eyes remaining closed, focusing on the sensations of grooming, "y' love plenty, but bein' in love… not so much?"

"I suppose so. I've felt 'in' love before, but nothing's ever come of it, so it always slides on back to having a lot to give." Hopefully this doesn't break any rungs Sable is grabbing at. Dee seems to enjoy Sable's feline state as much as she does, a smile on her face while she combs and cuts at the back.

"I can fall as easy as anyone though. It has a hard time staying there if I can't get a similar response."

"Tough t' tell what yer lovin'," Sable says, not seeming outwardly bothered by what Delilah has said, and it's unlikely that she is miraculously managing to suppress a deep feeling with no sign - Sable is not so much with the suppression of expression, "th' one y' think y' love 'r, like, th' wantin'… 'course, yer sensible, sounds like. Me, I get stubborn in th' damnedest way," her eyes open, sliding up to Dee's face, grinning, "which y' know from experience. But it's been my way t' figure that anythin' y' want, if y' c'n want it bad enough, if yer willin' t' do anythin' 't all f'r it, 'n' yer not workin' 'gainst Fate or nothin'… y' c'n get it."

Sable wiggles a little in her seat, a 'settling in' motion. "Love, real love, remakes y'. Y' change f'r its sake. Naw… better. Y' become somethin' more th'n yerself in its name. Loved back 'r no… that shouldn't matter. Better always t' love 'n' hope t' be loved, th'n wait t' be loved b'fore lovin'. 't least that's how I figure it."

Delilah is quiet while she listens, a smile lingering on her lips. She waits until Sable is finished to continue cutting.

"Have you ever thought about writing a book and putting all your -isms in it? It'd be a best seller, I think. At least start recording some."

Sable has to peer momentarily at Delilah, just to check her expression to make sure she isn't being made fun of. "Y've seen how I write," she says, "can't spell f'r shit 'r nothin' without a goddamn dictionary. Takes me f'r fuckin' ever, too. Recordin' though… what I wanna say, I'll say it all through music. You come t' our show, 'n' I'm fixin' t' get us one soon 's I can, you come, 'n' y'll hear what I really mean."

She reaches up to clasp Dee's wrist, halting the cut for a moment, leaning up to kiss her with suddenness and depth, a surprisingly out of blue show of passion. She drifts back down, gently releasing Dee's hand. "I'll write you a song, y' know. First chance I get." She sounds very serious about this. And the seriousness lasts for a good three seconds before, of course, she cracks into a crooked smile.

"Call it 'Cut My Hair'. Just rip off McCartney," she winks, and then closes her eyes again, which is apparently the sign to continue cutting.

"Make me pretty, darlin'. When I make a pass at y', I want t' be lookin' my best, dig?"

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