Participants:
| Scene Title | Lost and Found at Super Snips |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Matt gets a tip that somebody close to him might have visited Super Snips Hair Salon, Raquelle does his best but can't really help the poor man. |
| Date | April 07, 2009 |
Super Snips Hair Salon
Super Snips! They have chains in malls, strip malls, and other places all over the USA probably, one of those nifty walk-in places that provide hair cuts, washes, blowing, styling, perms, extensions…you name it, and of course waxing and make-up because who doesn't want to just give up and go to the salon when getting ready for something? Anyhow, this is where Raquelle works. Not by choice, but by necessity, after all, he has little mouths to feed and cosmetics to buy. He actually is dressed a bit more soberly the fitted black 'Super Snips' t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans, docs on his feet and apron/toolbelt around his waist and he's in between clients, sprawled in his chair with his eyes closed and mp3 player earbuds firmly in place.
The man who walks, or rather half-storms into the Super Snips certainly could do with a trim, and even a closer shave.
Matt Parkman looks around him with a wild-eyed stare. He's lucky he got a close enough parking spot that he's not also catching his breath, but if he were, it would only add to the look of near-mad desperation. Other than his demeanor, he looks like a respectable man, dressed in a dark gray suit with a pale blue shirt and darker blue tie. There is some method to Parkman's apparent madness, however hidden it may be. He squints as he scans those cutting hair and those getting their hair cut, or whatever stage of the process they may be in, skimming thoughts as he does so.
She was here. She was supposedly here, and if she was, someone has to remember her.
The lady at the front desk is wide eyed as she stares at Matt, her thoughts are pretty simple ~ I like big butts and I cannot lie ~ But some stammering and fluttering of hands before she gestures over towards Raquelle, squawking out. "Raquelle! It's for you!" That draws goth/punk man's attention, eyeliner rimmed eyes flicking up to squint at Matt as he gets to his feet slowly, yanking earphones out as he arches an eyebrow. "Oh honey…can I help you?" Hair, face, body, one fell swoop of a glance and his lips purse thoughtfully. His own thoughts though are, ~Oh isn't he adorable, I could just pinch his cheeks…poor thing looks he ran a mile chasing after a pizza and still missed out…~
There is only a moment's hesitation as Parkman processes the thoughts he is forces to focus in on. First the receptionist, then the proposed manager or owner. He reaches into his suit jacket and extracts a bi-folded leather case, which he then opens to reveal his government ID. "Agent Parkman," he provides, polite yet terse. "I need to ask you a few questions, sir. Do you have an office we could use?"
Over there at his station, Raquelle pats his apron for a few moments before pulling out a snickers bar which he offers with an expression of concern. "Agent Parkman, well I should've known by the suit…c'mon now, take the candy bar and we'll head to the back, there's a little private room that's used for special stuff but you gotta promise not to cuff me cuz that takes special to the level of sexually inappropriate." A wink and a grin, he makes shooing motions towards the back. "Office indeed! Aha, like this is Peter Perfect's salon…" He snatches up the purple and a bit glittery hairstyling cape and turns to start making his way to the back towards that walk in closest sized room. It is important to note his voice has stayed nice and calm, trying to make sure that's all he for lack of a better term emits.
Parkman takes the candy bar, but he doesn't eat it, and remains glum by comparison as he follows Raquelle in silence, pocketing his ID on the way. Once they're in the small room, he purses his lips, looking from the chocolate in his palm to the stylist. "It's Raquelle, right?" Last names can wait. Parkman reaches into his jacket again, but this time he pulls out a 5x7 inch glossy photo of a smiling teenage girl wearing a school uniform. She can't be any older than 15, at best. "Was this little girl in your salon, maybe an hour, hour and a half ago?" That desperation is back, dancing around the edges of the agent's voice.
Raquelle turns around. "Oh of course, Raquelle but you officer can call me anything you want…" Another wink and grin before his expression sobers up and he gestures towards the chair in the room. "Please…oh you poor thing…please sit down, she's so adorable." This is the room where they handle waxes and the like, there's a sink for any hair-washing that might need to do and a little stool on wheels that Raquelle settles himself on, eyeing the girl thoughtfully and racking his brain. "I don't think so…but maybe if you give me some time I might think of something?" He tsks and just shakes his head slowly.
Parkman does indeed sit, but on the edge of the chair and in hardly a relaxed sort of pose. He lays the photograph down where the waxee's legs would lie so that the man can continue to study it, and as he strains to remember, Parkman silently listens to what buzzes in his head, searching for memories himself - snatches of her voice, flashes of her eyes or tosses of her hair.
There is a blank, but there are flashes of his own daughters going through his head…the eight year old running around and screaming about how 'Da Vinci' her pet tarantula is out of his cage…flashes of his 4 year old asking 'daaaaaaaadeeee, want ponytails!' and damn if Raquelle doesn't start tearing up, clearing his throat and glancing back to the picture, trying to keep his voice soothing and sweet even. "Oh goodgoobelieeboo, gonna get my eyeliner to running…" He dabs at his eyes before patting the back of the chair. "Please lay back, relax for a moment sir. Tell me why she'd be here and maybe I can help…"
"No offense, sir," Parkman says with the strained tone of a professional under stress, "but I'd rather not. I received a tip off that she may have been here. She may not have been here alone." Parkman withdraws another photo to set alongside the first. The man in it is older, balding, and though round-face, is haggard to some degree. "She was last seen with this man." The flashes that Parkman does get of Raquelle's psyche don't help him much at all, and there is a subtle tightening in his jaw as he speaks, conducive of that thin thread of hope he clings to.
Raquelle hmms softly and tilts his head to the side. "No offense Officer Muffinluv, but you have lovely skin and it would be a shame not to at least give you a quick shave before you leave, hm?" He scratches his cheek and sighs, looking between the two photos and then watching Parkman carefully before looking back to the pictures. "Another stylist may have done her…and or him, what if anything would she um, have had done? I can flip through the appointment book or receipts or something…"
"Anything from a trim to something drastic." Parkman remains upright, and if anything, Raquelle's compliments have him sitting straighter. "It's a kidnapping case. I wouldn't put it past this man to change how she looks altogether." Thankfully - hopefully - Maury Parkman doesn't know about Sonny Bianco.
Raquelle frowns and toys with the cape in his hands and takes time to examine the black polish on his nails, racking his brain and gritting his teeth with quiet frustration at not being able to help, he takes a deep breath and is staying quiet so as not to accidentally share how he's feeling when he speaks so after a moment he offers. "I really wish I could help you Officer, I do…the most I can do is offer you a free, well anything and of course uh, a caring heart always open to be there for those who have lost or are ya know…helping somebody else find their little angels…" He sighs and looks back to the picture.
With a tragic nod, Parkman collects the photos again, replacing them with his card. "If you remember anything, or if they come in again, let me know. Thanks, Raquelle." He stands, but he pauses after the single step it takes him to get to the door. "And I might send my fiance in sometime to take that freebie from you."
Raquelle rises to his feet and stretches his arms over his head before tossing the cape over a shoulder and nodding emphatically. "Of course officer muffinluv…of course." He sighs with a hint of a pout, disappointed in himself but he quickly pastes on the grin again. "Oh do, just makes sure she asks for Raquelle or any of these other ditzy barbies might get her and then she or he will come home and crawl into bed with you and you'll roll over and be like…" His voice adjusts and lowers a bit to sound hella close to Matt's own voice, "Oh hi baby-AHHH!" Clearing of his throat bring his voice back its normal register. "And then they'll be like 'its not that bad sugardumpling' and the rest can be saved for a soap opera." Flutter of hands before he just waggles of finger. "Be safe, take some time to rest and eat your candy bar, okay? Take care of yourself…"
It's not everyday that Parkman meets someone who wears their thoughts on their sleeves, and so he boggles a bit while standing in the open door. Blinking, he swallows. "Yeah. Okay. I'll remember." Stunned is the only way to put it, really. Parkman leaves the salon without the vigor he had when he entered it, but with his shoulders slightly hunched and his hands in his pockets.
He curls a fist tightly around the candy bar.
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