Participants:
| Scene Title | Supercuts |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A treat for one is a trick for the other; Nick decides to take Delia for a day at Raquelle's spa. |
| Date | September 17, 2011 |
When it is almost lunchtime…the Salon isn't as busy as it could be today. The girl at the manicure station is busy doing nails and there's another individual doing an old fashioned roller-set over yonder while a couple others are busy brushing or snipping away at hair into fashionable styles. A young lady sits at the front desk, welcoming people in and having them sign a book as she enters information into her computer with a giggle. Her hair is a shocking bright green and she's wearing the traditional black and purple for Salon Employees.
The door opens, Nick holding it open to let Delia in first before stepping in himself. His brows rise at the neon green hair of the receptionist, and he glances back at the door as if considering leaving again. "Do they do normal people hair, too?" he asks in a quiet aside to the natural redhead next to him.
Clearly, he's not the type to go to salons — he's never paid more than $20 or the comparable amount in pounds for a haircut in his life. He lets Delia lead the way to the desk, unsure of what to ask for or say. Today he's trying to "spoil" Delia by taking her to a "posh" salon for a haircut and whatever else she might like.
He busies himself by looking at a display of nail polish, picking up one of the more unusual colors and squinting at it.
From the moment she walks in, Delia is busy trying to fingercomb her hair, straighten her appearance, and generally make herself as presentable as possible. The last cut she had (that wasn't self inflicted) was given by the Raquelle himself, the Cambria in Cambria. Needless to say, she's as nervous as a snake in a nest of mongeese.
"Yes, shhh," she whispers at Nick, not meaning to be harsh but not calm enough to pay attention to her own tone. "She might hear you and kick us out, we can't be kicked out of this place…" It's obvious that the treat to the salon is appreciated as a gesture much too grand than it's meant to be. The redhead is basically treating the staff like rockstars.
"Uhm, uh— Hi?" She stutters as she reaches the counter. Her fingers are set nervously along the edge, like they're too dirty to rest there but needing to touch it anyway. "I'm uhm… we're here for uhm.." Haircuts, whatever they do to hot messes today. "He needs a haircut!"
The girl with the green hair just looks between the two, tilting her head to the side before laughing in a friendly way and pointing to the sign-up book. "Oh! Did you have an appointment or like something?" She asks, idly chewing on a piece of gum. "Cuz like I'd need…heheeee, I'd need your name! Totally, c'mon…what's your name?" She clears her throat and looks around as if looking for empty seats.
"Not me, just her," Nick says, though he is clearly in need of one himself; his black hair is shaggy with little shape. He shoves a hand through the front, pushing it back as if nervous suddenly.
"We don't have appointments… I was hoping you could fit her in but if not, we can go somewhere else?" He glances at Delia apologetically — Super Cuts doesn't need appointments, after all, nor does Bob's Barber Shop, all cuts $10.
Smiling suddenly now that Nick is the focus instead of herself, Delia steps a little behind him and nods quickly. Her eyes dart at his head, something of a signal when he pushes his hair back. "Delia Ryans," she says as she points to herself, in case there's a question of who is who. "— and N-Nick York."
Leaning a little into him, she places a hand at his back and looks up. "You too, he's awesome.. Remember my last haircut? You should have seen what he did for Luka, it was— wow." Pursing her lips a little, she knits her eyebrows together in thought and shrugs, "He was afraid though… Like the whole time he looked like he was about to get sold into slavery or something."
"Hmmm, a walk-in…" Greenie picks up the phone and dials a number. "Unhunh, yeah, totally boss-sorry boss…" She actually takes her gum out and tosses it into the trash before looking back between the two and she points towards the back office with a slow nod. "Alright, ya'll can go back now. Knock a couple of times and then just go in ya know."
Nick looks skeptically around the salon, and shakes his head. "I don't need a posh haircut. This is about you," he says, tugging one of her russet curls, before nodding his thanks to the green-coiffed receptionist. Taking Delia's hand, he leads the way to the back door.
"Hopefully it's not a slavery ring in disguise. I'd have to work or somethin'," he says lightly, knocking on the door, waiting a breath or two, before entering as directed.
"Well if it is a slave ring, then I'm not getting my cut for bringing people here." It would explain Luka's absence from their home in Eltingville, except for the fact that the Russian man doesn't exactly live there. Delia smiles at Nick and squeezes his hand gently as he knocks on the door.
When he opens the door, her hand automatically goes up to cover her eyes, fingers scissoring open just a touch to hide her from getting a full view. She didn't warn the spy but last time she was at this particular door, she was greeted with a sequined thong. "Mister Cambria?" She adds as they walk in, "we're here for cuts… don't let him tell you just me."
"Yes…yes you little twit, 5 cheese pizzas. Okay okay, give me some breadsticks and wings too - alright sweetie, smoochies…come by to get your bangs done some time this week." Raquelle comes from behind a screen in his back office wearing a pair of fitted purple…boxers and of course a black robe left open as he looks between the two and gestures to the chairs at his desk with a soft laugh. "One second babies, I'm workin' on ordering lunch…do ya'll want anything?"
Nick's eyes drop to the floor, a blush rising on his cheeks and he shakes his head at the offer of food. "No, just a hair cut or whatever for her. Whatever she wants," he mutters, before glancing back up at Delia.
"Maybe I'll go do some errands and pick you back up in a little bit," he suggests, another nervous raking of his hair as he looks over his shoulder to the front of the salon.
Delia lowers her hand when it's boxers that greet her instead of something a little more revealing. Chewing on her lip, she knits her eyebrows together and glances between Nick and Raquelle for a moment before shaking her head. "No thank you, I something a while ago." Coffee for breakfast. Her voice is a little on the brittle side, cold from the tinge of jealousy at the blush on Nick's face.
"Fine," she emits with a little bit of a huff, crossing her arms over her chest as she glance toward the wall in the opposite direction. "You're probably going to get a haircut at that barbershop down the road, aren't you?"
Raquelle glances towards Nick with a quirk of an eyebrow before he closes up his robe and laughs softly, shaking his head and hanging up the phone as he claps his hands together. "…oh lil' boy, just sit your little ass down will you? You need to get trimmed…you're looking worse than a shetland sheepdog on a bad hair day." He shudders and looks to Delia. "Mmhm, okay sweetie, just have a seat." He winks. "We're just gettin' trimmed up today right? Nothin' real fancy or anything? Snip snip, clip clip, and polish it off for you boooooooth?"
The look of confusion on Nick's face at Delia's tone is genuine, but he sighs — he can't leave now and offend the stylist, though he bristles a little at being called 'lil boy.'
"Just a trim," he agrees. "For me. Whatever she'd like." He sits in the chair as directed, looking awkward and nervous and glancing over at Delia, the flush still on his face. "This was supposed to be about you, you know," he points out, a little irritated at her huffiness a moment before. He looks back to Raquelle, shaking his head. "Girls," he mutters, as if seeking commiseration.
The young woman seems a little bit appeased by Nick sitting in the chair, at least by the expression on her face that smoothed to neutral rather than the small frown. "Thank you for not leaving me with five pizzas," is the comment he gets, as though Delia has a problem with either overeating or undereating. He does, afterward, get a tiny apologetic smile.
"You need a haircut anyway," she murmurs, picking up a tabloid magazine and leafing through it. "Oh hey! You could get this one! Not Justin Bieber but the one on the other page, see? Your hair is long enough… What do you think Mister Cambria? Do you think Nick would look good with these little spikies?"
"Oh yes honey, girls. Can't live with them, can't live without 'em…but baby do they get all the best clothing!" Raquelle slips back behind his screen, coming out a few moments later in a pair of fitted black jeans and a black and purple vest, his emo-fringe is purple today as well as he looks between the two. "….spikies? No sweetheart, I know you mean well but can you imagine sleepin' on those? You'd wake up thinking you went home a sticker bush." He shudders and gestures one person towards his personal stylist chair and the other towards the shampoo bowl.
The picture is glanced at but not commented on; fifth amendment silently pled. Nick does smirk a little at Raquelle's analogy. "Just a trim is fine," he says for perhaps the third time, a nervous hand shaking once more as he shoves it through the too-long hair. The flush is gone at least now that Raquelle is dressed.
"I think she'd look really good with that lime green your front desk bird has," he suggests, seemingly serious as he gestures toward Delia. There's a tell-tale crinkle to his eyes.
"No, blue or purple… My hair wouldn't look good with green in it."
Delia's all too quick rebuttal does come just a little backhanded, since she agrees that she is in need of something a little wilder than her natural color. "I've never dyed my hair before, do you have to bleach it out first? Can I get a streak or something instead of the whole thing?"
Reaching for a few long curls, she pulls them into view and crosses her eyes to stare at them. "What happens if I can't get back here to get it touched up or whatever? My sister bleached her hair out and it was gorgeous but she couldn't keep up with it so she had to dye it this horrible black color and then get it all cut off because the roots were terrible."
Raquelle just looks between Delia and Nick and back to Nick and then back to Delia and he tugs a certain cart forward and begins mixing together certain dyes as he nods slowly. "We'll…do a nice…shade of blue, streak it in the front on the edges for you." He flashes a bright smile before looking over to Nick. "We're gonna clean you up…trim it and clean you up." He takes a deep breath. "Alright babies…lets get gorgeous!"
An arc of Nick's brow shows that didn't go over as well as he'd hoped, but he shrugs his left shoulder. "What the hell. I'll have to start calling you niebieski. Or maybe naszywka," he says, a smirk curving his lips upward.
To Raquelle, he snorts a little, clearly finding the word gorgeous something that doesn't apply to him. "Not much chance of that on me. She'll have to be gorgeous enough for the both of us," he says wryly, then adds more appreciatively, "Thanks for squeezing us in. Next time I'll make an appointment."
It's not Super Cuts after all.
