A/N: This was originally Lara on a bike and thinking of Jacob whom she had left home alone, but it felt a little lackluster, so hopefully this is better. This was written and edited in a quite quick succession, so apologies for any errors or blunders. This is also not beta'd.
"Would any of these look nice?"
Lara takes a quick peek at the model book that the barber-slash-hairdresser woman had opened in front of Jacob. She even cranes her neck a bit, before returning to her original more detached pose, sitting on the windowsill of the bow window.
The shop was a small place courtesy of the size of Aldershot in general. Still, even on a quiet day, she didn't particularly favor being in the city. She doesn't know how on the map Trinity was when it came to Jacob, or how much they cared, but constant vigilance was always the best option. The thought made her glance at the barber again, assess the threat she could pose with a knife or barber shears close to Jacob's head and neck.
The woman passed the inspection, giving Lara a chance to swing her right leg and return to surveying the street.
Jacob had seemed a bit bothered by his growing hair and finally asked her for a chance to have it trimmed.
As much as she was an expert with all kinds of sharp objects, the risk of messing up Jacob's hair had made her willing to give the job to a professional.
"And do you want to touch up your beard?"
Lara can already guess Jacob's reaction, making a tiny smile tug at her lips at Jacob's polite refusal and his hand flying to his beard when the barber turns to fetch her cart.
It's not been even two weeks since Jacob had brought up the topic of beards to Lara with his astonishment that none of the leaders showcased in the news had beards.
She had gotten used to his out-of-the-box questions, but his quiet bafflement by the topic had made her blink owlishly before trying to explain the reasoning behind the modern fashion.
"Body hair isn't favored these days - except on top of the head. Men's beards and mustaches are okay, and hair on the genitalia sometimes too, but that's about it. I think it's about control: hairs link us to animals, so hairlessness is kind of mind over matter, civilization."
"I thought that it would have been simply a sign of the ranks, but everyone here follows the same trend."
She blinks, her eyes looking but not focusing on the laptop screen, "Byzantine was... you preferred beards, right?"
"You cannot lead without a bear," Jacob corrects with a small pondering in his words, "A leader must be a man, flawless and virile. - At least that was how most thought."
"That doesn't seem to apply to Sofia," she cannot help but interject easily in the light of the old sexism, making Jacob huff in small amusement.
"Which might not be an unwanted development," and after a pause, "A beard these days is a sign of an unclean soul?"
"Not to that extent, more like ...a little rugged, untamed."
"Displeasing?"
"Well, no, I wouldn't say that."
And she still wouldn't as she watches Jacob's profile from her seat between the white decorative pillows.
It's a very nice pastime. Sometimes she even finds herself staring at him amidst work when her mind is trying to figure out a lead.
Here there isn't that much else to focus on, but she still doesn't feel bored which is a bit surprising. Her cycling practices have begun to feel like pulling a stone ledge behind her and her mind usually wanders to all the open leads, Jonah, Alisha starting at college, the paperwork with Roth's inheritance and what that entails. More often than not, she suspects that she would notice Trinity sneaking up on her only when they've already driven her over with how unexplainably unstimulating her old beloved lifeline has begun to feel.
And then there's always the question of how many cabinets Jacob has gone through during her time away.
She tilts her head to assess him as he answers the barber's small talk.
Of course, she cannot know for sure, but he was someone who wanted all the information before making a decision, someone who always had a plan C and wanted to ensure the future of his people; so, Jacob trying to find out as much as possible about her is not that far-fetched - not to mention how she had scoured the whole Valley for information about his secrets.
It was only fair. - Unless he was too respectful to disturb her privacy, which in turn should make her feel a bit bad about her own actions.
She averts her gaze to look survey the street and the two teens walking a dog on the other side of the road.
Truants, but not dangerous.
She stays in her thoughts for a while, wondering how the driving lesson tomorrow will go, until Jacob's comment on the history of scissors catches her ear.
Like a lot of Jacob's comments, it is deceivingly simple on the surface if you don't spend more time analyzing it. In fact, she had started to notice that Jacob's humor materialized in two ways. There were the obvious laconic jokes that made his eyes crinkle. However, there were also the ones that vacillated between being banter at all, the ones that made her brows furrow and her brain work overtime whenever something didn't quite add up.
The latter are also the ones that cause Jacob to make a pleased nod whenever she spots his witticisms and answers in kind.
Who knew a thousand-year-old prophet would know how to be a cheeky bastard; she rolls her eyes with a small amusement as she leans further into the pillows, ending up watching Jacob again.
It's just one thing characteristic to him, just like the skill to vary between being very frank and not saying anything at all despite outwardly genuine admittances.
A puzzle in every aspect-
-except now. Because the more she follows his demeanor as the falling flocks of hair start to make way for a hairdryer, the more certain she becomes that Jacob is not comfotable with how his hairstyle is coming out.
It's a weird notion, and she has to analyze it a few times with her expression scrunching minutely, but every time the feeling in her gut is intensified.
There is nothing that telling on Jacob's face, nor in the way that he replies to the woman, but she just ...knows, straightening her pose and making Jacob glance at her what he can from his seat.
They stare at each other for a moment, but as there is no obvious alarm on her face, he eventually gives her a tiny, friendly tug of his lower lip before moving to ask the barber to repeat her question.
She adjusts the sleeves of her gray jumper with nothing better to do while waiting for the barber to finish her current task.
However, she cannot stay completely silent about the matter.
She isn't as worried anymore on every single second that Jacob might just get too frustrated with her and go, but this place had been her uneducated suggestion and she doesn't want to leave Jacob with a bad haircut. The never-ending question in her mind is how to learn to trust the status quo though. They had been close with Sam for years and she had saved her life, but still, they ended up in a fallout. Jacob, on the other hand, was still with her even though she had killed him …which by every reason should be a bigger offense... There was no logic to soothe the anxiety always brewing in the deep corners of her stomach, so she has to push the question aside with practiced steps.
"It can be sculpted a bit more if you want," she interferes from the side causing both Jacob and the barber to look at her.
Before she would have thought twice about whether to open her mouth - it was funny what fighting hundreds of Trinity soldiers did to you. Or, then she cared overly about Jacob's happiness with the result.
Their eye contact with Jacob lasts long enough that the barber butts in a more hesitant tone if Jacob indeed wants her to style his hair more.
Lara stays from interfering anymore and watches from the side, trying not to be too conspicuous as Jacob gives the woman a warm smile and proposes a small change to the model but turns more pondering afterward.
She leans back against the pillows, hastily reminding herself of glancing at the street again for anything suspicious, but she does feel a bit of warmth in her stomach at noticing the situation. It's never been her strength to understand people's reasonings.
She smiles more widely, even dropping her head a bit to prevent the amusement from being too obvious when Jacob is finally let out of the cape and his hand quickly flies to feel his shorter hair.
She pays the price - 16 pucks - while taking a stealth glance that he is okay with what he got. It looks good to her, but she isn't an expert on men's hairstyles or the Remnants' fashion sense.
He gives her a reassuring sign, but she can see that he isn't fully on board with the change.
Maybe he'll grow into it, she thinks while leaving the shop after a moment of wills with Jacob about who'll walk through the door first - - or then she'll have to learn to cut the ancient models.
It'll probably be fine either way.