Participants:
| Scene Title | Sore Sight |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Mmm! Being dead is no excuse for bad hair, girrrrrl! |
| Date | February 12, 2019 |
Raquelle's Spa!
The Safe Zone is an experience all its own. The blonde who made her way through it to this place has never seen it like it is now… it's far better than the Wasteland, but it's nothing like home. It's hard to be here, to see everything the way it is now. She pauses outside the shop, biting her lip. But she can't come back from the dead and not come here… and she certainly can't allow anyone else to actually make her look presentable.
Bracing herself, Elisabeth opens the door and steps inside.
And there he is, in all his ‘Raq’ glory, that is currently sprawled comfortably in a styling chair, leg tossed over an arm and his rhinestone accented black converse sneakered foot swinging to a beat only he can hear. Fitted black jeans, long sleeved black t-shirt and a light grey leather jacket tossed on, studded tastefully. Raquelle looks up from where he was studying and blowing on his freshly painted glittery black nails and those eyeliner rimmed eyes just widen a fraction.
“…. oh my Mary, Joseph, and Japanese Jesus…” Just slips out as he quickly unslings his leg and jumps to his feet, rushing towards the woman with open arms. He’s pretty much the same, a little more solid, his fringe has been gone for years now, and his hair is well coiffed and tousled stylishly with hint of purple highlights in the darker shades.
The truth is, she wasn't sure of her reception. But she plants her feet and lets herself be engulfed by the stylist's hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. Burying her face in his shoulder, Elisabeth whispers in a choked voice, "Hi." It's about all she can push out past the lump.
When they do finally pull apart, the blonde grins around the tears that have wet her face. "You still look glamorous as ever. God, it's good to see you." Of course… two years of nowhere to have herself even remotely with a decent haircut and she's definitely looking a little scruffy. Although all of her clothes look new. She's a bit more slender than she should be, but there's color in her face, at least. She doesn't look unhealthy, just as if the past little while has been tough.
Sometimes, people just need a hug and Raquelle has practice at this, squeezing firmly but still remaining gentle as he rocks a bit and kisses the top of Elisabeth’s head murmuring softly in Japanese and chuckling softly as he just replies. “Hey.” To her ‘hi’.
When they pull apart, he looks her over quickly and tugs a dark grey bandana from an inner pocket and offers it to the woman with a soft ‘tsk’. “Bein’ worried sick about folks apparently is good for the complexion.” He winks and gestures towards his face before shaking his head and placing his hands on his hips. “You are a sight for sore eyes and a sore sight for my eyes, baby…” A hand moves to his chest as he exhales softly. “I know things are a bit different around here.” He gestures around the smaller space, not quite as elegant as his old ship. “But thankfully, I know a couple things about hair still.” He drawls teasingly.
“You wanna have a seat at the shampoo bowl while I grab a smock and something for you to drink?” He doesn’t ask where she’s been, or what happened. Because, he’s Raquelle. He just gestures towards the shampoo bowl and seat.
The laugh is a little wet, and Elisabeth takes the bandanna to wipe her face. "I didn't quite expect to lose it. Sorry about that." She makes her way toward the shampoo bowl and lowers herself into the seat while Raquelle bustles. "You're my very first visit in the city, darling." She pauses and observes in amusement, "I heard about the years in the bunker. Do you have any idea how highly my father thinks of you?"
If she's still a little shaky and uncertain about what to talk about, she's doing her best to keep it low-key. "How you did not kill Richard is completely beyond me," she teases.
Off the hairstylist goes, returning with a bottle of water and a smock that he drapes around Elisabeth in a smooth motion, setting the water bottle down within reach. “Well then, I am very very flattered. I have to say the neighborhood has gone to shit, but with no broadway and theatrical flair, what can you expect?” Raquelle then sobers a bit at the mention of the bunker.
He selects a plastic bin, and rests it on his hip as he moves from once cabinet to another to select a variety of different products, pausing occasionally to look back at Elisabeth’s hair with a squint. “Well, I know what its like to be a daddy missing a daughter or two. Mine came back and…now so did his.” And so he returns, arranging things on the sink.
“I resisted the urge to choke a bitch, because despite all Ricky Ricardo’s faults he still has a nice ass and at least tries to do the right thing.”
By the time Raquelle is done, Elisabeth is giggling. Hard. "He does still have quite a nice ass," she agrees, the laughter bubbling out. "I heard you did some of the broadcasts. I bet you were everyone's favorite commentator," she adds. Clasping her hands between her knees while she waits for him to gather the tools of his trade, her smile eases to a softer one. "She did indeed finally get here. Next time I come down, I'll bring her with me, if you like. I wanted to get a good feel for the area before I brought her into the markets and what have you. She's had a lot of upheaval in the
past couple years."
“You know me, I’m good at cutting hair and running my mouth. Thankfully, this came in handy because god knows Pretty Ricky looks like a baby Bear trying to pick up his first twink at a gay bar when he has facial hair, so my straight edge razor came in handy.” Raquelle drawls as he tests the water against his own hand and smirks gently. There is a confused quirk of his eyebrow at the mention of ‘her’ though.
“…I was talkin’ about your daddy getting /you/ back? Did he lose another one? Did we both miss the memo that if you reproduce before the robot vs not as fabulous X-Men wars that you needed to make sure you lojacked your kids in case of an emergency?”
He gently nudges and guides Elisabeth’s head back as he adjusts the water temperature. “Water okay?”
There's another giggle at the description of Pretty Ricky. "The water's fine," she replies, her mind racing to come up with what to say when she realizes he isn't quite up to speed. "I … was talking about Richard's daughter," Elisabeth admits softly. "Who is about 6 and a half." There's a small smile. "Lojacking the kids doesn't exactly seem like a bad idea to me right now," she comments, a shadow crossing her eyes. "I understand my father's reactions a hell of a lot more these days… and I have no idea how he actually managed to bite his tongue so much when I became a cop. He had to be worrying like crazy."
Something herbal and floral smelling fills the air as Raquelle uncaps a shampoo and starts working on Elisabeth’s hair, his fingers pause though for a moment when she says ‘Richard’s Daughter’ and he blinks a few times. “…that fit little bitch…” His hands start moving again as he clears his throat. “Sorry baby, I know you hit that. And if he bent a little more my way and I wasn’t a happily engaged man, I’d be tempted to but I shared personal space with that motherf-fudger. I have cut his hair, seen his morning-sweatpants-outlined glory, and smelled his farts. And he mine. You don’t keep stuff like that from folks.”
He tsks and rolls his eyes before wrinkling his nose before rinsing out the hair and giving it another treatment wash, shaking his head, his voice softening a bit. “You know…Diana, my youngest, she wants to be a cop too…I have pre-anxiety about that already.”
Elisabeth blinks, and then looks more and more amused as the minor rant carries on until she is giggling uncontrollably at the end. When she manages to stifle it some, she does get more serious, though. "He probably … didn't want to say anything in case we couldn't get home. I think… Well, it had to have been hard enough to find out about her years late," she says quietly. "I didn't know I was pregnant when it all went down."
She blows out a slow breath, luxuriating in the feel of Raquelle's hands in her hair. "It's a tough calling, Raquelle," she confesses. "Although to be fair…. If I'd stayed just a cop, my life probably would have been a hell of a lot less interesting than it's been the past few years." In the Chinese sense of the word. "If she wants, I can talk to her about it some. I don't know that being a cop in the here and now will be exactly the same, but … the mindset will be."
Laughter is healing, and although Raquelle may not know everything the woman has been through, if all he can give and offer is a few laughs and some relaxation? He will always oblige. He nods slowly in understanding under another rinse before he starts working in the conditioner, strong finger tips kneading and massaging her scalp.
“My fiancé was a cop. Diana uh…has public anxiety induced muteness? If you could call it that. Unless she is singing or performing. But she’s dedicated to wanting to help protect and serve and help kids who go missing or something…” Raquelle trails off. “She has it all planned out, and she’s only 12.” He huffs softly. “Then my other one wants to be a lawyer. So basically one wants to give me grey hair and the other wants to make sure I have no money after she goes to school…” He trails off. “But I’m sure Princess Diana will love to talk to a woman who used to do what she wanted to do.”
A long pause. “You do know that your baby girl will have to come in so I can spoil her right? And that my girls are always available for baby sitting?”
Well, then Raquelle already knows firsthand the worries that come of being related to one of New York's Finest. Elisabeth's eyes close and she listens about Diana and his other daughter. "She's welcome to ask anything she wants to know. I'll tell her straight — pros and cons," she replies about that part.
And then one blue eye opens to look up at Raquelle. The smile that quirks her lips is small but definitely present. "I wouldn't dream of asking anyone else except family — which includes your girls, Raquelle." The underlying thought, that Elisabeth wouldn't trust a stranger with her child, is not exactly surprising although the brief flash of ice in her expression (if caught) might indicate that there's a deeper fear there.
"Aurora will love to come and see you. Purple is one of her very favorite colors, and she is going to love you to bits, I'm quite sure," Liz observes wryly. "Getting here has been… a long road, Raquelle." Her tone is wistful. "I wish that there had been some way to get back sooner, but… that wasn't possible. Don't be too angry at Richard for not telling you, okay? He didn't find out himself until…. I guess sometime near the end of the year. We didn't exactly have a way to communicate."
—-
There’s a firm nod as Raquelle is rubbing hair between his fingers thoughtfully, checking the length and making mental adjustments as he selects another product. “Purple is one of her favorite colors? Well be still my beating heart, there’s hope for her fashion palette.” He waggles his well groomed eyebrows, he’s wrapping up the hair and tucking it under a plastic cap and drying off his hands.
A hand reaches to gently pat Liz’s shoulder. “We are on one long and winding road baby. Lots of shitty things fly up, hit us in the face or get stuck to our shoes. Sometimes we get a chance to hitch a ride, and those rides can be bumpy or smooth for a bit. But, it's the pit stops where we meet other travelers and bond in our mutual acceptance that life is shitty, and love is rare so friends are there to make the trip a little less hard. Sometimes you see rainbows in the thunderstorms when someone is there to point it out. Sometimes you see lace in the blizzards and make snowmen with people you care about.” He gestures for her to sit up a bit. “I could never be /too/ mad at Richland Markets. Just sad…I know what it's like not to know you have a daughter until after she’s born. He has many years of catch up to make, and his heart will forever belong to her. He is now officially love’s bitch, so he better saddle up and prepare for the ride.” A pause. “We’ll let this sit for a few minutes, to let the deep conditioner settle. What do you want me to do with it today? Cut, trim, color?”
Quirking a brow at Raquelle, Elisabeth can't help but laugh quietly as she sits up, holding the towel around her hair. "I'm at your mercy. Just… I think no color for now. I spent a number of years brunette, so I'm just going to keep things simple, keep my own color for now. But trim or cut away, whatever you think it needs." Carte blanche is powerful.
As they're waiting on the conditioner, she murmurs, "You held up all through the war. You've made another beautiful place where people come to be pampered just a little. I cannot thank you enough for all that you did for my father during those years, Raquelle. There are not words for how grateful I am that all of you survived and thrived." Elisabeth swallows hard. "You're one of the rainbows in my thunderstorm."
She didn't mean to get mushy, it's evident in the way she averts her blue eyes for a long moment struggling with her emotions.
The tall hairstylist, bends over and down a bit to offer a side/one armed hug to the seated woman and he smiles softly. “I’ll just get you cleaned up then, get you feeling fresh and free.” Then Raquelle quirks an eyebrow and kneels down as he considers what is being said for a moment and then he chuckles softly.
His nose wrinkles and and he pushes himself up to his feet, brushing his hands off on his thighs as he gets a bit teary eyed, smiling. “That’s sweet darling. But you and Slick Rick made a fuc-freakin’ Aurora…so you look to her, and let that sweet baby angel be your drive. I have a feelin’ in this crazy world, the least we can do is make sure we start to create a better world for our babies to live in. Smooth out some patches in their roads. And I’ll be there to cut a bitch if they throw your handcuff proficient ass another pothole, okay?”
She laughs, leaning into that hug for a long moment, and then she sits up to wipe off her face. "I'm sorry," Elisabeth tells him with a grimace. "I've been a ridiculous amount of teary-eyed since we got back. I'm still… having a hard time with adjusting to seeing everything that's changed. To have some things and some people still be who and what I remember is a huge thing, right now. It helps." She smiles despite the damp face.
"All right, then. Let's get this horrible mop looking like something that actually resembles a good head of hair, shall we?" Elisabeth blows out a slow breath. "Talk to me. You said you have a fiance. Tell me about him. And when are you planning this wonderful big day?"
A careful gesture to lay back down as Raquelle works on starting to rinse out the conditioner. “I’ll do my best to stay as fabulous as ever then.” He winks and he rolls his shoulders.
Then he nods slowly. “I’ll do a trim and clean up, get you some motion going there but still easy to get done.” Then his lips curl in a hint of a smile. “Ahh, Bolivar. We’ve been together for over 8 years or so. Engaged since before the war. He’s the other half I didn’t know I was missing. Sometimes stars align and we’ve spent more time apart than together sometimes it feels but I kinda know that if he’s out there? I’ll always find my way to whereever home needs to be.”
He clears his throat. “But, no idea when we will get to actually make it official. He deserves a wedding ya know? For putting up with…me. All the drama everything. He deserves to have something nice like that…”
He nods towards the stylist chair, wrapping a towel around Elisabeth’s head.
It's not exactly a common name. Elisabeth's brows pull together and she seems to be digging through her memory. "I … might have actually met him once. Or something…" Years and years ago. "The name is ringing bells in my head. But …" Too many worlds, too many people and places that are almost home. She can't place it.
Allowing herself to be rinsed out well, Elisabeth is quiet during that part, seeming to just enjoy the simple pleasure of someone else's hands in her hair. And then as she moves to the styling chair, she says softly, "I understand about the half you didn't know you were missing." The shadows that flit across her expression are brief. Antarctica was that revelation for her. "I think regardless of what you do about a wedding, as long as you're happy it's all that matters. But I get wanting to give him something beautiful," she says with a smile.
“Mm, once upon a time I think amongst the police and such, he had a none too ah, complimentary reputation for making a very hard call.” Raquelle offers after a moment. The smocks are switched out when he leads Elisabeth over to the new chair, and he settles the cape around her front, securing it behind her neck. “You know I promised to him over /voicemail/ while I was getting relocated? That’s how our relationship has been. Making do through difficult situations. When you find the one that makes being celibate worth it? You know its real…”
He clucks his tongue and is securing his hair-cutting belt on, with all its hair scissor pouch. “Because honeeey, lemme tell chu something. I fully embrace the fact that once upon a time, long ago…I was a ho.” He smirks and gets to work, towel tousling and then starting to comb and portion out hair, examining various lengths and such between fingers and making his mental calculations.
“You know you can take as long as you need to recalibrate right? If you need anything, a drink…a partner to bitch about Rickstastic’s toenails with? I’m here for you.”
Elisabeth looks thoughtful and murmurs, "I never do monogamy." And then she pauses and looks down, laughing softly. "When I got to the other place and found out I was pregnant, though? I couldn't… if we were going to keep trying to get home, I couldn't let her bond to very many people. Certainly not someone who she thought of as her father. She had her Uncle Felix… and the past couple years, she's had Uncle Kain, but… she knows they're not her father." Pursing her lips, she shrugs a little. "I sort of just found myself celibate for the whole time we were gone."
Whatever that says to Raquelle about her feelings, she doesn't really know. "It's hard… to let people close. I've lost so many of them. Always moving on under attack." Elisabeth grimaces. "It's kind of a mess."
“Well, because life is a mess, let’s make sure you don’t look a hot mess.” Raquelle drawls softly as he continues working. Occasionally he tilts her head one way or another, but he works quickly and precisely. He does pause though to tsk softly. “Accidental celibacy is a bitch and a half though. I feel you there.”
There is a pause before he finally asks. “You think you gonna stick around a bit longer though, right? No more venturing wherever you went, and coming back with a another mini-me? Because when I get you back on my books as a regular, I’ma have to move some things around.”
Elisabeth laughs. "For all that I literally live in fear of vanishing again? No, I have no intentions of venturing any of those places again, Raquelle." He can feel the shudder that rips through her briefly. "I'm tired of running." It's almost under her breath, those words. Her absence wasn't by choice, but she's not kidding about her fears of vanishing again. Still, she looks up at him. "I'll bring Mini-me to see you," she smiles. "I'm certain she'd love to get her nails painted, after all."
There is a casual tousle of Elisabeth’s hair as he makes sure its falling how he wants it to fall, and Raquelle takes a step back to examine the style and then he sets his shears aside and there is a brush and blow dryer in play. “For when you want to just have a seat and take a rest, you know my chair is always open.”
And he gives a little shimmy. “Ahh, I’ll make sure my youngest knows so she can make some cookies and come and coo over someone younger than her.” He winks and turns the blow dryer on to finish his work.
Elisabeth grins, and she whips out a cell phone once the shears aren't near her hair anymore. "I have a picture, at least," she offers. She hasn't had a cell phone in a couple years, after all — she forgets that she has it! But she's already got some sweet pictures in it, one a heart-melting image of Aurora with her head tucked against Richard's neck while he's holding her on his arm. That one is her lock screen, as if she can't see it often enough.
She laughs at the shimmy. "You're a nut. But I'll definitely look forward to bringing her in. Now tell me — how bad is the theater scene really? I mean, no Broadway is a massive blow, but… has everyone just run off to someplace like, God forbid, Kansas to have a theater scene, or what?"
There's a soft intake of breath from the Hairdresser as he looks over Elisabeth's shoulder to see the picture and he sighs dreamily before smiling softly. "Well look at that… He's been kicked in the balls so many times by life, I'd have expected his swimmers to be moving sideways. Look at that living proof that miracles do happen. Ya'll did good baby, ya'll did good…"
Then Raquelle turns to look at Elisabeth in the mirror at the question, eyebrow raising a fraction. "There's so much drama happening with corporations and the government, us theater geeks don't stand a chance…I think there's been a off broadway revival attempt of Cats in the midwest or something like that but god…"
And on he continues, styling hair…prepping for the facial every time jumping traveler would need and doing what he does best. Bringing comfort to weary souls.