Harkness had to sit on a foot stool, because the wounded barber couldn't stand to do his haircut. He'd gathered surgical scissors, a wet towel and a comb, found in Preston's desk drawer. Harkness was sure he wouldn't mind. First, Butch had instructed him to rinse his hair out, get it soaked so his hair would be more easily manipulative. By this time, Harkness had taken off his upper security personnel armor, the heavy weight a hindrance as he made quick work of Butch's orders.
"Yea, that's good, come over here." Butch had barked, satisfied with how Harkness had wetted his hair. The security chief gave a sigh as he sat himself on the low stool, giving Butch the perfect vantage to do what needed to be done.
"You know how to give a lot of orders for being a hair dresser." Harkness commented off handedly.
"Hey…" Butch suddenly sounded a bit hostile, "I'm a barber." He corrected the man. "Hair dressers are for women."
"So you're saying your services are only available to men? I don't think that's very accommodating." Harkness countered, "If you can't accommodate, I don't think this job is going to work out." He began to stand, but, "Wait, wait…" Butch pushed down on Harkness' shoulders, making him stumble to a sit back on the small stool. "I didn't say I wouldn't cut ladies hair. Hell, they're my most frequent customers."
"Then that means you're also a hairdresser." Harkness spoke up, allowing the forceful motion to go unchecked. He heard a heavy sigh from behind him, breath brushing past his ear.
"Alright, fine. I give." And then there were a set of warm hands on his temples, then fingers stroking through his wet hair. Despite his apparent reluctance, the gesture was gentle, as if what he held in his hands and stroked were something fragile. It was a surprisingly soothing motion, and for a moment, Harkness found himself relaxing to the touch. Then the hands left and a comb took their place. A few minutes were spent combing out Harkness' wet locks.
"You've got some soft hair, buddy." Butch commented, his form slightly hunched as he sat on the edge of the cot. "What do you use in it?"
"Soap." Was Harkness' simple reply. It made Butch chuckle, then the comb left for a moment. Then the fingers were back, selecting strands to shorten in between his pointer and middle fingers.
"Are you sure you just want a trim? I can give you something-" "Get to cuttin', Butch." Harkness interrupted his thought quickly, not wanting him to get any ideas.
"Sure, sure…" Was Butch's reply. "Just tryin' to give the ladies a reason to look at'ya." And he began to snip, tiny tuffs of hair falling to the towel surrounding Harkness' shoulders, keeping the hair from getting on his clothes. Harkness rolled his eyes. "If you wanna insult me, you gotta try a little harder than that." He mumbled, about to shake his head a bit, but firm hands grabbed his head and held it in place, "Stop movin'." Butch mumbled back.
Butch then began to clip more strands, combing out more hair here, and clipping there. It was a meticulous task, and every time some hair got trapped behind his ear, gentle fingers rubbed it out or away. The sensation of having a person give him these kinds of touches… He wasn't sure he quite knew how that felt like. Butch's behavior may be gruff, and annoying at times, but his hands told a different story. Harkness started to feel the kid had a natural knack for this.
"Butch…" Harkness spoke up, announcing his name more as a statement, but Butch replied anyway as if he'd asked something. "Yea?"
"How old even are you?"
Harkness heard a small chuckle of sorts, "Why you askin?" he asked back, his voice soft as he began to really focus on a certain spot.
"I wanna know how long you've been doing this."
"Why, cause I'm just that good?" Butch asked with another chuckle, a gentle thumb scrapping away some strands that had stuck to the back of Harkness' neck. The small touch had inadvertently sent a chill up Harkness' spine, making him sit up a little straighter.
"No. Because you're too comfortable touching people like this."
There was a long moment of silence after that remark, and Butch had even stopped combing out his hair, his hands frozen on his head. "What's wrong with getting touched, huh?" Butch ventured, continuing his task at hand as if Harkness hadn't even mentioned his gestures in a way to signify he disliked it.
Harkness rolled his eyes, "Why do you have to answer my questions with questions?"
"Hypocrite."
Harkness stared blankly at the metal wall across from him, not finding the effort to even muster a retort. For some reason, he had a strong feeling Butch was smirking behind his back. He swore, if he didn't have a pair of scissors in his hands…
"Alright, turn around." Butch commented, his voice sounding much too amused for his liking, while his hands left from his head. Harkness stood, turning around and sitting once again on the foot stool, noticing just how much height Butch had over him while he sat like this.
Butch didn't waste any time and went straight back to cutting the Chief's hair, meticulous and swift. Because Harkness had nothing else better to look at, he made no attempt in hiding the way he looked up to the Barber's eyes and watched him. Under half lidded eyes, his bright blues shifted across his scalp, while his hands made quick work of the hairs that made up what bangs Harkness had. To him, it almost seemed the work was mindless to Butch. He wondered how many times he did this in his vault; mindlessly giving the same haircut with no variety.
"You like my face, or somethin'?" Butch asked, leaving Harkness reeling back and realizing he'd been staring for some time now, but kept his eyes steady as he watched no change in Butch's expression. It was kept neutral, and overall bored.
"It's not like I have anything else to look at." Harkness mumbled.
A small smirk twitched at the corner of his lip, only acknowledging the comment through that motion. Then a small few strands of hair fell to the side of the slope of Harkness' nose, and in a swift yet gentle action, they were brushed away by Butch's thumb.
"I'm done." Butch announced, grinning down to the Chief as his hands fell away and tucked themselves in his lap with the comb and scissors. His eyes drifted over Harkness' head, observing his own work and raising his comb hand to swipe through a section here and there.
Harkness raised a brow, "With as little bias as you can, tell me how it looks."
Butch reached out and collected the towel draped around Harkness' neck, making sure to not let any tiny hairs escape the terry cloth. "It's exactly what you asked for."
Harkness stood, wondering over to the standing mirror by the door and took a long look at his reflection. His hair had been trimmed, neatly, professionally. It looked exactly like what you'd expect from a no non-sense security chief. So why did he feel a small pang of disappointment curl in his chest.
"When you want somethin' new, you tell me." Butch suggested, folding the towel in on itself to keep the short hairs from falling everywhere.
Harkness made eye contact with Butch's reflection in the mirror just in time to see that razor sharp smirk whip across his mouth. He gave a gruff half chuckle then turned to him. "How much do I owe for the haircut, Barber?" he asked, already pulling out a few caps from a leather pouch at his hip.
"How much is a meal around here?" Butch asked, gingerly making his way back on to the bed in an upright position.
"You can get something that's cheap and tastes cheap for five caps. Something that's not cheap and not taste cheap would be 10 caps and up." Harkness explained, then grabbed up his upper body armor to slide back over his shoulders.
Harkness watched as Butch gave a nod, "Alright, how about seven caps. It wasn't much of a cut, ya'know." He gave a chuckle, leaning back against the wall behind him. Harkness gave a half smile then reached into his pouch and counted out some caps then came up to Butch and dropped them to the side of his thigh on the bed. "For the time being, you'll be living in here, until you're healed enough to walk. I'm gonna get to work on finding you a place to stay while you're here." Harkness began explaining, putting away all the things Butch had instructed him to pull out from Preston's supplies.
"Once you've got some place to stay, I'll get the word out that you'll be cutting hair." He paused for a moment, still wondering about where he'd be cutting his customer's hair. He was still a sketchy character, and he wasn't so sure about letting his citizens go into a room by themselves with Butch. Maybe he could set up a corner in the marketplace... Perhaps the corner closes to the stairs, and just move that work bench…
"You'll have a space in the marketplace to do your work. I'll get together some supplies you'll need, and don't worry about paying off a debt for those." He then went to turn and leave, but stopped, slowly turning back to the young man.
"And don't think just because you work here now doesn't mean I won't crack down on you if you start causing trouble." Harkness was swift about laying down the line, silently hoping this kid was just all bark and no bite, but he found himself highly doubting that.
Butch chuckled, "I'll be an Angel." He mumbled under half lidded eyes.
Harkness shook his head slightly before opening the doctor's office door and stepped through it-
"Hey, wait, you gave me ten caps, Chief." Butch called to him, staring confused at the pile of caps in his hand, "I mean, don't get me wrong, I love tips…" Then he drifted off.
Harkness stepped back in for a moment, long enough to say, "You can get a whisky for ten down at the Muddy Rudder. The beer here is piss water." He mumbled, nonchalantly. Without waiting for a reply, Harkness left, closing the door behind him and walking back down the hall.
Even with all the distance, and a metal door between them, he could still feel a razor sharp smirk cut into his back.
