Richard Ray Is From Mars


raquelle_icon.gif richard_icon.gif

Scene Title Richard Ray Is From Mars
Synopsis Mr Ray goes to get a haircut and rant session with an old friend.
Date August 1, 2018

Cambria Salon and Day Spa

The Salon, it has a name. A name that keeps being recycled and defaulting to 'Cambria Salon and Day Spa' on official paperwork as no other names really have sat well with Raquelle over the last few months. Its more quaint than the original Salon used to be, but it has that indie elegance with polished edginess that comes from having the floor and walls decorated by a true artists (Aka, Brynn). Purples and blacks and chic accents of white and silver to keep it from looking like a Hot Topic.

The owner of said salon, can be found sprawled comfortably in a stylish chair wearing a pair of practically painted on black leather pants, motorcycle boots, a dark purple tank with a hint of shimmer to it and a black and purple plaid shirt, his hair artfully tousled on trending more towards auburn today. He's idly flipping through his inventory list with a highlighter. A pair of black glasses resting on the bridge of his nose as he purses his lips and continues working. No customers at this time in the late afternoon, allowing him time to handle the part of his business he hates. Paperwork.

"I like the new paint job," comments Richard Ray as he steps along inside, dressed for the less-swanky parts of the Zone — that is to say, most of it. Old, worn BDUs and a black t-shirt that shows off some of the tattoos along his arms. An easy smile crooks to his lips as he looks over to the hairdresser, a hint of playfulness in his voice as he walks over, "You seem pretty busy, though, Cambria, so— maybe I should come back later?"

He will deny being startled later, Raquelle looks up from the fact that he only has 5 more bottle of delousing shampoo and pauses in mid highlight as he takes in the newcomer. The bright pink instrument of attention and clarity clattering to the floor. His own tattoos are hidden by his long sleeves but he is pushing himself out of that chair with a wry grin, a twinkle in his eyes. "Like I'd let you walk outta here with your hair looking like /that/. I've got a reputation to maintain, you know." He's approaching though, with hand outstretched for the bro-hug hand shake and a welcoming chuckle. "Good /god/ baby, it’s good to see you!"

A grin splits Richard's expression as he steps over, clapping his hand into Raquelle's own and pulling him in to clap his shoulder with the other hand. "It's good to see you, too, man. And hey, my hair's not…" Drawing back, hazel eyes roll to try and see his own hair, fingers tugging at a bang, "Okay, maybe it is getting a little shaggy up top. I've been busy. Life's been pretty fuckin' weird lately." His hand drops, and he looks back to the hairdresser, "How've you been doing down here?"

Drawing him in for a tight hug, Raquelle just smirks gently and pulls back as he reaches out to run a hand over Richard's head, idly catching a few strands between his fingers and raising an eyebrow. "See, that's how I know its been a minute. You use to know better than to doubt my hair-a-mess senses." He feigns a pout and winks before gesturing towards the shampoo bowl, already on his way to get a cape and his hairdresser apron. "A little busy? Aren't you like an actual sexy Bill Gates now or something? You say fuckin' weird, but I think what you meant to say is 'pretty fuckin' paid'." He looks around as he comes back, black apron secured around his waist as he shakes out the dark purple cape. "I've been okay down here. Doing my thing. Making people feel fabulous and looking out for whoever I can."
There's a laugh as Raquelle examines Richard's hair, waiting for him to draw back before meandering over as directed— familiarity reassuring, in days of uncertainty. "The money's good, not gonna lie," he admits, "We're helping a lot of people, too, at least if the hydroponics project we're setting up in Jackson Heights works out. No more food outages in the Zone, or— well, at least fewer. We won't be able to feed everyone but we'll feed a lot more. Rolling out a scholarship program too…"

Cape is draped around Richard in passing. A glance over to Richard's hair for a moment before Raquelle kneels down to select specific bottles of shampoo and conditioner out of the cabinet and sets them on a cart to wheel over. He's listening though, glasses removed and clipped to his shirt. There's no doubt flickering in his eye liner rimmed eyes as he hears the list of things being worked on. "It's always comforting to know that money doesn't spoil /every/ person. But if you roll up in here one day with a fur coat on, gucci glasses and sipping wine from the glass you always take with you and I don't care how many magic water systems you build. I'm beatin' you until the loose change start falling out." He winks and shakes his head slowly. "Lean back baby and tell me if the water's okay." There is a pause. "Have /you/ been okay Sugar Ray?"

"You absolutely have permission to beat the living crap out of me if that happens," Richard replies with a grin, leaning back in the chair, hands folding loosely against his chest beneath that cape. Hazel eyes close, and he admits quietly, "Like I said, things've been strange. Do you remember… when we were first getting everyone situated at the bunker, that fucking La Mer signal?" One of the consoles was set to receive the song, playing on a loop. As far as they could tell it had no real origin. Richard would sit listening to it long into the night, as if trying to glean some secret from it. And after several months, it faded away forever.

Bowl is tilted back ever so slightly, as Raquelle's hands, gentle but firm, get to work on working up a good lather in the raggedy strands. He's quiet though, staring off into space for a moment as he recalls the song. There's a soft sigh before he starts humming the melody softly and then sings a few words. "La mer…qu'on voit danser, le long des golfes clairs…" There is a grimace as soap is rinsed out of hair and a second wash applied. "It about drove you up the wall. Did someone you work with make it their ring tone and now you are struggling between stabbing them with eyeliner pencil or kindly asking them to change it?"

As the song's sung, Richard breathes out a soft sigh; torn emotions there, it seems, conflicting as to how he feels about it now. "No," he chuckles briefly, "No, it… so, you remember that solar storm last month? I realized that there was high solar activity then, too… reached out to the station, and it was playing again. So. Got Warren out there to do some rewiring. Got Noa and Hana and Alia out there. Intercepted it and sent a message back."

Raquelle pauses for a moment before continuing his haircare, shampoo is rinsed out. He starts working on and with conditioner now, fingers presses against Richard's scalp in a head massage. "Mmhm. So ya'll found the number and decided to call back?" He tilts his head to the side curiously. "So? Don't be a tease…what happened?"

"Christ," Richard breathes out, "How do I even explain?" He relaxes as the other man works his fingers through his hair and along his scalp, though he's silent for a moment. "So, there were— before the war, we had a bunch of people come back in time. Peoples' kids, from the future, trying to stop it. Shit was weird back then. Anyway, they thought they changed the past, but time doesn't— work that way." Hands lift a bit beneath the cape, rustling it as he gestures unseen with the words, "What happens, happens. There are— parallel timelines. You know, like on Star Trek?"

That hand pauses again before the hairdresser strokes his fingers through Richard's hair, rinsing out conditioner as he listens to the explanation. Well groomed eyebrows inch slowly up…up…and further up as the explanation continues and by the time he gets to Start Trek, Raquelle is draping a towel over Richard's hair and patting it down with a slow blink. "Well. Its kinda like music or sound right? You can replay, or resing the same verse using the same notes over and over again but the sound generated or whatever waves from the previous attempts are still out there. You can't ever take that back…" He taps his shoulder to get him to sit up, twisting and securing the towel oh so stylishly on Richard's head.

"Yeah. So… going back a little bit?" Richard shifts to sit up as instructed, shifting his shoulders a bit as he re-settles with the towel wrapped upon his head, "I've been looking into my family. Grew up in an orphanage, you know? Found what I thought was my father. Claimed he wasn't. Found pictures of who I thought was my mother, the day she died. She… wasn't pregnant." He glances over to the hairdresser, "Weird, huh?"

"Nah baby, not that weird. I always knew your tight little tushy was from Mars." Raquelle drawls softly as he nods towards the stylist chair. "So, somebody lied I'm guessing?" He shrugs his shoulders and takes a deep breath. "Are you wantin' a shave too, or only a trim and touch up?"
"You were closer the first time," replies Richard in dry tones, "And— yeah, I guess I could lose the six o'clock shadow." It's gone a little past five. "So anyway. Michelle Cardinal. She invented a way to see into these other worlds. Things went wrong, there was an explosion, she died." There's silence for a few moments, "Except in the possible world I was born in."

He really does come from Mars!

Getting the man situated in the stylist chair, Raquelle steps away for a moment to secure his air cutting belt around his waist, all his scissors and such lined up, straight edge razors are being lined up on a tray as he checks the edges. "So you are essentially livin' a science fiction soap opera?" He squints at Richard for a moment and then lets out a low whistle. "Dayum." A couple of blinks are given as he's mixing up the shaving cream, and shaking his head slowly. "So, how are you unpacking that? I mean, knowing me, it would be day drinking and copious amounts of marijuana."

Time to get rid of that 7:30 shadow.

"Pret-ty much," Richard admits, and as the shaving cream comes out he lifts his chin slightly and holds still for the attention to his facial hair. It'll grow back swiftly as stubble, but he's never really let himself grow a beard before. At least not that Raquelle's seen. He almost did in the bunker but everyone stopped him before it was too late. "Mm. It's complicated by the fact that on the other end of that La Mer signal? That was my mother."

"Well, if I ever meet your mother, I'm going to ask her how do you say 'no beard, you look like a lumber jack trying to be metrosexual' in French and ask her if she can time jump those new lyrics into the broadcast." Raquelle drawls softly, unclipping his glasses and getting to work with the extremely sharp straight edge razor he's using. But as Richard knows, he knows what he's doing and every stroke and rasp is professionally precise. "So where do you go from here with all that info? Sendin' her a mother's day present through time? Writing her a letter? Asking her if weird facial hair runs in the family? Therapy?"

"I guess I'm going to have to find a way to open a door," Richard closes his eyes, holding very still now as the razor comes out, even careful of how much his jaw moves when he talks quietly, "Got to reach her. Elisabeth. Magnes." Who are presumed dead after Alaska. "Gonna be a weird year."

"Just be careful baby that when you open that door. Doors go both ways, and we can't always control or even see what's coming when we're going." Raquelle cautions softly, moving a finger to gesture for Richard to hold still as he carefully maneuvers over a tricky bit, cleaning the blade and getting back to work. Then he makes the 'continue'' motion, lashes fluttering at the mention of Elisabeth and Magnes and his eyebrows shoot up again, then lower slowly as he looks over his glasses at Richard and then back down to his work shaving. "Opening doors. Talking to dead people. And homeboy's sitting here saying 'weird'. The term you're looking for is 'crazy as hell' or 'batshit insane'." Then he goes back to that baby smooth shave, rolling his eyes with a soft tsking.

"You've gotta roll with the punches, Cambria," says Richard quietly, eyes still closed as the blade's edge skims across his skin, "You let it get to you too much, you end up in a god-damn asylum. So I'm just gonna leave it at weird and deal with it." After a few moments, he inquires, "How're the kids?"

"Alright…" Raquelle replies softly, cleaning off his razor and smoothing a hand over a patch of skin before edging it up. He works quickly and efficiently. Finally using a warm wash cloth to wipe away the debris from the beard massacre and the shaving cream, quickly applying a oil/aftershave. "They are teenage girls, little D is just hair and legs and still sweet as can be. I'm still not convinced that I didn't trip hard on acid and accidentally knock up Satan's mistress and only thought it was BJ's mom because that…one right there." He snaps open a chinese styled fan and is using to idly fan Richard's face after the aftershave is applied. "She wants to be a lawyer though, so that smart mouth is going to get her paid one day." Then he's cleaning up his shaving supplies and laying out his hair cutting scissors and clippers.

Richard breathes out a quiet chuckle, cracking open an eye as the fan's wind brushes across his face. "I dread the day that Lili's a teenager," he drawls out, "And BJ should look out, all those kids from the Lighthouse are running around the Safe Zone getting into trouble these days. I think they've formed a Scooby Gang. They've come by the office a time or two…"

"If there's hot girls, BJ will be sidling up to them in a heart beat." Raquelle drawls with a look that is a mixture of pride and a bit of fear. But he does quirk an eyebrow. "When Lili becomes a teenagers, you can officially join the Father of Teens support group, there's tears, imaginary mimosas and sharing of horror stories." Then he's running strands of Richard's hair through his fingers, measuring things off mentally as he takes a comb and adds in a part in the direction he wants to cut. "The Lighthouse kids are a delightful bunch, a few help me out here at the shop. I…do what I can to help the babies that live around here. In the safe zone. The ones who have never really known a world without…all this complicated shit."

"They've always been good kids," Richard admits with a smile, shifting a little before settling back in the chair to let Raquelle decide what comes next, "You're right, though, they've never… really known another world than this. Even before the war they were at the middle of it." The smile fades with a sigh, "I can't even remember the number of times someone tried to attack that place. Christ, there was that winter that the wild dogs got one of them, and then the flu… they've been through too much."

"Which is whyyy, I want to give them some normal things. You know baby, like their first formal affair, a prom or something. And I'm trying to get a Charity or Benefit concert together as well, to show them that side of the kindness of strangers." Raquelle lists off the things before he starts snipping and flipping hair over and snipping and such. "They freaked out over the idea of a pedicure. A pedicure baby…I almost cried right then and there."

"To be fair," Richard is trying not to laugh as he's getting his hair cut, he really is, but he can't stop grinning at least, "Most teenagers don't get pedicures, Raquelle. I mean, like, at all. Ever. If you'd tried to give my juvenile delinquent ass a pedicure back then he might've punched you out."

"And I would've cut your ass and told the cheerleader who gossiped the most that you gave me crabs." Raquelle replies smoothly as he continues working on the trim, pursing his lips. "But I did my own mani-pedis back then because I was usually too high and into music to schedule appointments. But! I still think back in the day at least teenage girls understood with pedicures were I mean, did you see how many movies there were about slumber parties?" He snips a few more times before squinting. "I'm gonna edge you up a bit, if that okay sweetcheeks?" Scissors set aside for clippers.

"I trust you," Richard replies easily to the question about clippers, and then he's chuckling, "Well, teenaged girls do, I suppose… but remember, they didn't exactly go to public school or anything, Raquelle. They were living on fucking Staten Island and then in the wilds of Canada during the war…"

There's the soft buzzzz of the clippers as Raquelle works on lining Richard up, so to speak, adding that crisp edge to the clean look he is going for here. "I know, and that's what pisses me off. They learned how to be soldiers, and have to survive. They missed out on so many simple joys we took for granted and all that crap's our fault." He sucks his teeth and sighs. "But I can't get too emo about the whole thing, frowning will give me creases before my time."

"They seem to've grown up alright," Richard notes, closing his eyes as the clippers buzz against his skin and through hair, "Despite everything they've been through. They're weird kids, but… good kids. A few of 'em are working over at Raytech, hired one on as an intern and the other one's running packages and water bottles and shit."

"Aye. Very good kids." Raquelle clicks off the clippers and sets them aside before he uses the special brush to dust off all the trimmed hair and such and then he's got some hair product on his hands that he's working through the shortened locks, arranging and mussing the hair just so with a flourish as he turns Richard to face the mirror. "Oh my god, look who I found!"

"Oh, no, who's that," Richard grins at the mirror, turning his head to the left a bit — to the right — checking out his profile before approving, "Perfect as always, Raquelle. Now, I could tip you, orrr—- " A half-turn of his head again, a sly twitch of a smile, "You mentioned some sort of concert event. You happen to need a corporate sponsor?"

Raquelle pretends to flick some dust off his shoulder with a hint of a smirk. "You know I'll alllways make sure you walk out her looking more scrumptious than when you walked in." And then on to the matter at hand he nods slowly as he removes the cape from around Richard's shoulders and shakes it out. "Well I sure as hell not going to be able to foot the bill on my own, why do you think I went out of my way to befriend the folks I knew would still have paper after the war?" He is teasing here, raising his eyebrows and removing his glasses. "But…seriously darling, anyway you can help would be appreciated. The community coming together and seeing that more than their neighbors care about them, is going to…do amazing things. I can just feel it."

Richard's chin dips in a nod at that, even as he's brushing at his shoulders to scatter a few lingering bits of hair. "It will," he admits, "And we've been trying to do a lot of community outreach, win the hearts of the people and all that. All the more so because we really are trying to help, profit be damned…" A bit of a chuckle, "May even have outmaneuvered Yamagato, although we'll see how that turns out."

Raquelle claps his hands together and gives a little shimmy before hanging the cape up where it goes spinning back around to face Richard. "Well, I'll make sure to send the details over to you and yours then. Keep you in the loop of the preparations." He places a hand on his hip. "…I'm pretty sure it's more like the Yamagatos have you where they want you, granted where they want you may not be where they really need you to be and it might come back to bite them in the ass, but tis the way of the Japanese." He shrugs a shoulder. "Now repeat after me. Unless I am on the lam and trying to hide from the police, I do not have to walk around sporting a past midnight shadow unless there is absolutely no way for me to take care of my face." He waggles a finger. "You can always come in for a chat and a shave, old friend."

Richard grins broadly, hands spreading wide at the oath he's offered. "Can't make any promises, my friend," he declares instead, "I'll try and make it down more often, though. You all should come up for dinner sometime, see the kids, all that. You know." A rueful smile, "Sometimes I miss the bunker."

Raquelle just shakes his head at Richard. "Fiiine, I'll try to sleep at night without havin' nightmares of your facial hair gaining sentience and trying to sing La Mer." Then he offers a small nod. "I will! Maybe I'll bring the girls and Boli up as well, or just bring myself first scope it out…either way. We'll get up there. I want to see the babies." There's a wistful smile offered though as he approaches Richard, and reaches out to take his hands if allowed. "Oh…my dear, sweet, little Richard. We had good times. I learned to love and still love you all. But if I am ever locked the fuck up with limited grooming products, little girls going through puberty, man stank and having to use generic eyeliner, and not getting any sex for years? I will literally, track down the motherfucker who started whatever made us have to bunk up again, and beat their ass with a box of tampons."

Richard's hands clasp with the other man's, and he flashes a broad grin in response to his words. "Sounds like a good time," he teases right back, "I'll make sure to stock up on particularly sturdy boxes of tampons." Then he pushes himself up to his feet, stepping from the chair with a chuckle, "But yes, you all have to come up sometime."

"I knew I could count on your support." Raquelle winks and just squeezes the hands gently before stepping back. "When I tell Diana that I saw you, she'll want to know about the babies right away. So, we'll be up there soon I'm sure." He sighs softly and just offers softly. "Hey? Look." A small nod. "We made it, so let's keep making somethin' of it, hm?"

"We did," Richard agrees, "Let's make this world a brighter place that the war left it… one way or another." A warm smile, then, and he claps the other man on the shoulder before moving to step to the exit, "We'll talk soon, about the concert, all of that."

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