Wade Barrett is incensed. Everyone knows as soon as they'd seen what Daniel Bryan had done to keep their distance- except, that is, for one.

Heath Slater whistles lowly as he gets a good look at the man's half-mustache and blazing blue eyes, tsking softly when Wade tries storming past him, lips held tightly to keep from screaming. "Brit," he says simply, following his former leader through the halls to the locker room. He doesn't give up, however, continuing to dog him through to outside of the showers, where Wade steps into the stall, past caring about his gear or much of anything else right now.

He almost expects Heath to storm in and continue annoying him until he says or does something, consequences be damned, but it doesn't happen and when he finishes, walking out to get dressed in his street clothes, the loose hairs washed off of his body, he's somewhat surprised to find Slater waiting patiently by the door, arms crossed over his chest. Wade slams past him, breathing angrily when Heath pulls away from the wall and follows him. "Brit," he repeats.

This does stop Barrett in his tracks, the man rounding on him. "What... is... it?"

Heath's mischevious brown eyes immediately trace the uneven stubble along his jawline. "I can help with that, you know."

Wade sneers down at him. "Oh, you believe you can, eh? You think I'm going to let you near me with any kind of sharp instrument, you're more out of your bloody mind than any of us realized." But Heath doesn't lose any of his determination to see this through. In fact, Wade's words only seem to bolster him all the more and he turns for his bag, finding his shaving kit, which is painstakingly maintained to keep his sideburns just the way he likes them.

Wade watches him incredulously as he checks his razor, the shaving cream, and everything else in there before turning back to him, smirking. "You are out of your bloody mind," he realizes, almost laughing as he backs away slowly. "Slater..."

"What could it hurt? You couldn't look much worse than you already do," he says without thinking, only just noticing when Wade bristles, offended.

"If you think I'm letting you touch my face- or anything else- after a crack like that-"

Heath rolls his eyes and trails a hand over his own, carefully taken-care-of jaw thoughtfully. "Too bad, you looked alright cleanshaven... but fine, if you wanna keep this half'n'half look-"

"I did?" he demands, stopping Heath before he could put his kit away. Slater smirks, eyes gleaming as he looks over at the other man, waiting for his decision. Wade glares at him, finally releasing an exasperated sigh as he gives in to the idea. "Fine, do it."

The grin on Heath's face is nearly blinding as he begins to lather Wade up with the shaving cream he knows he prefers, then preparing the razor. He moves quickly, not wanting to give Wade the chance to change his mind and bolt. Approaching him like he's a skittish animal, Heath murmurs quietly before running the razor down one side of Wade's face carefully, catching what Daniel had left behind and across the other side before giving it a second runover, just in case. "There," he says softly, examining his handiwork to make sure he'd caught everything. "Thoughts?"

Wade stares at him suspiciously before turning to look at himself in the nearest mirror, surprised by how good a job Heath had done, his anger slowly beginning to fade now that he doesn't look like he'd had a fight with a lawnmower and lost. After all, he can always regrow the beard... "Huh," he mutters, impressed, as he runs a hand down his jaw. "What do you know, Slater. When WWE inevitably sacks you, I suppose you could get a job at a barbershop."

Heath freezes for a moment, glowering at him. "Really? After..." He huffs, shaking his head. "Well next time, you can find someone else to help ya then," he snaps as he tosses his shaving kit back into the bag and quickly lifts it over his shoulder before leaving the room.

"Bullocks," Wade mutters, realizing immediately just how low that particular dig was. He follows him, relieved that he's able to catch up before he makes it out of the arena, slamming the door shut almost as soon as he grips the handle, keeping him from leaving. "Slater-"

"Let go," he snarls, face almost as red as his hair.

"No," Wade says simply, using the hand not holding the door to grip Heath by the shoulder and turn him around. "I'm sorry, alright? That was low, even for me."

"Damn straight it was," he grouses, still trying to get away, making sure not to look him in the eye. "Let me go."

"I said no." Wade stares down at him, waiting patiently for him to look up. "You were just trying to help me and I was... being an insulting prat about it all." Heath still looks pretty angry, hurt, and every other negative emotion possible, so the Brit stops trying to justify himself, his shoulders slumping a little. "I really am sorry, Ginger."

Heath stares up at him then, lips twisting thoughtfully as he examines him, uncertain about his sincerity. "You mean it?" he wonders lowly.

"Yes," he sighs, wearily rubbing his face. "You did a fine job helping me with... this whole... mess, and I shouldn't have taken my anger towards Bryan out on you. Alright?"

Heath huffs, his grip on his bag slacking. "Wasn't funny, man. You know how important bein' a wrestler is to me."

"I do," Wade sighs. "Which is why I'm apologizing. You've always been a decent friend, even after Corre disbanded the way it did, and I shouldn't disregard all of that by making such comments." They stand quietly for a few minutes and Wade finally tires of waiting for Heath to say something. "Are we alright?"

Releasing a heavy sigh that seems to deflate Heath by a fair amount, he nods wearily. "Yeah, we're fine." Brown eyes tracing Wade's jawline, some of his smugness returns as he examines his handiwork. "I really did do a damn fine job, didn't I?"

Wade sighs and smirks, shaking his head even as he steps aside to let Heath walk back into the building ahead of him. "Yes, you did," he mutters lowly, rolling his eyes half-heartedly when Heath's grin grows.