crossing his legs without looking up from the mag.
Ken flapped his hand at him in annoyance, which went ignored, then continued into the bathroom. To Christoph and Ashi’s eyes, it was like walking into a high-class woman’s restroom in some swanky hotel or restaurant, except with a lot more variety in the lotions and creams. Maybe a few more mirrors, too.
“Sit,” he demanded, “helping” Christoph onto the toilet with a hand on his shoulder. He selected five different products from a cabinet, putting them in easy reach. He thrust cologne at Ashi, then wet his hands in the sink and ran his fingers through Christoph’s hair.
“Good lord, do you ever run a brush through this?”
“It eats brushes,” Christoph protested. “I swear it devoured a man once. At Supercuts they have to drown it to senselessness before they even get near it. Most shampoo screams and runs from it.”
“You don’t use shampoo,” Ashi pointed out.
“Exactly!” At Ken’s wide-eyed look, he quickly explained, “I wash it, seriously. Bar of soap, lather up your hands—” Christoph mimed scrubbing his hair.
When Ken turned to Ashi, speechless, the smaller man nodded. “That’s the way I do it. Shampoo is expensive and it has a strong scent.” Ashi asked, holding up the bottle Ken had handed him. “Also, what am I supposed to do with this?”
“I think we broke Ken,” Christoph said, looking up at the vampire, who was absolutely aghast.
“You… you heathens!” he exclaimed. “God… Supercuts? Bar soap?”
Shuddering, he twisted around, pointing to the bottle in Ashi’s hands, deciding he would ignore their barbaric ways, just for tonight.
“Spray some on one wrist, then rub your wrists together. Don’t get it on your shirt, for God’s sake.”
He was so mad, he’d even lost some of his lisp.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph… You are getting a haircut after tonight. Would that I had enough time…!”
Growling savagely under his breath, Ken proceeded to attack Christoph’s hair with some leave-in conditioner, finger-combing the tangles before graduating to using a pick. Followed by a brush. Followed by a comb.
Next he grabbed some kind of cream, introducing new tangles as he scrubbed it into Christoph’s hair. Pick. Brush. Comb.
Followed by a second cream. Rinse, repeat.
Frown. Not enough.
More water, a little bit of some kind of lotion. A few savage attacks with the comb in places.
Finally, a smile.
“Much better. Almost done.”
The wild, tangled mass of curls were actually… gone. Christoph’s hair was straight. Poofy, perhaps, but nothing like it had been fifteen minutes ago now that it was neatly brushed back until it reached his shoulders. Only hints of its former, riotous nature remained at the tips.
Ken grabbed a bottle, an oily, sweet-smelling liquid squirting out, making Christoph flinch. Ken lightly ran his fingers one last time through Christoph’s hair, slicking it back, smoothing it out, and giving it a lustrous shine it never had before.
“Ta-da-a-a-a! I’d dare say the beast has been tamed!” He paused. “That is not as bad as I was afraid it would be.”
Ashi stared at Christoph. “Oh my God, you look like a model.”
Christoph tentatively touched his hair. Ken slapped the hand away.
“I’m afraid to look.”
Ashi put some of the cologne on his wrists and rubbed them together. “We don’t use this stuff. Smell you coming from a mile off.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been called a heathen for bar soap,” Christoph muttered. He kept blowing at the strands on the side of his face. “It’s great for cutting up, too. Then everyone can have their own little bar.”
“You’re scaring the vampire,” Ashi said, sniffing his wrists. He sneezed.
“Scent is a key factor, boys. You want to be remembered. You’ll have to get your own after tonight, but for now, you can use mine. It makes the first impression last when every part of you is as fab as Christoph’s hair.”
He grinned and lightly slapped Christoph on the shoulder. Even the inhuman bit about sharing a bar of soap for their toiletries couldn’t get him down.
“Put on some cologne,” he said to Christoph, reaching out to adjust the collar of his shirt. Crooking a finger, he sauntered out of the bathroom, inordinately pleased with himself.
Reece glanced at them over the top of his mag, eyes widening and giving a low whistle.
“Very nice. Sweets, if you ever get tired of Mouse, you know where to find me. Day-um!”
Ken smirked. “Let’s go, honey. Time to knock ‘em dead!”
Reece got up, giving both Weres appraising looks. Ken led the way to the car, head high and his arm linked in Reece’s,