Duke.
See Chapter 1 for headers.

This is the part of Lex's life that he hates the most.

"Really, you can't keep doing this to me," Duke said, half-joking and half-exasperated.

"What?" Lex replied, already defensive.

"I see you..what?...every three months in a good year. You leave my chair revitalized, hair full of body, conditioned, ends blunt, delectably highlighted. Then you disappear. When you return, you bring me split ends, deplorable roots, dry, frizzy, fried, flat hair. Have you applied for government funding? Except for you couture threads, you're an absolute federal disaster."

"Duke?" Lex replied.

"Yeah?"

"Um, I would love to indulge your little tirades but, um, two things: they bore me, and I'm on the clock, so could you do that thing you do and let me go?"

"Sure Lex," Duke said laughing, "What do you want?" He spun the chair around so that Lex could look at himself in the mirrors.

"And I have to know what I want!" Lex exclaimed. "This is why I hire experts. You are my cosmetological expert, and probably receive a higher percentage of my personal income than anyone else."

"Wow," Duke said flatly, "you're that cheap with your staff?"

"You, however, are not my expert in humor."

"OK, you're in rare form today, and by the looks of your roots, it probably has something to do with those untamed red locks, so let's get to work." He rubbed his hands together. "OK, so current fashion trendsetters for men are Ryan Seacrest, David Beckham, Sean Combs, Ashton Kutcher and the omnipresent Tom Cruise."

"And you memorize this stuff." Lex bit his bottom lip. "Well, Tom Cruise is the only name on that list ringing any bells, so I'm scared. 'Cause, um, last I saw, his hair was Samurai chic: long, botched and grimy."

"If that's what you want, my work is done. That'll be $315.00, thank you."

"Duke, you know what I love about you...your ability to be a hemorrhoid. Tell me about the other guys."

"They're all metrosexual." Lex didn't know what that was either, but he liked the sound of it.

"In that case, the Waterchestnut guy."

"Who?" Duke said, snorting a laugh through his nose. "If you're referring to Ryan Seacrest, he alternates between a short highlighted shag, and a faux hawk."

"As in mo-hawk?"

"Yeah, but they aren't just for punks anymore. The style is tapered on the sides, and then you just gel it up when you want a hawk, and pomade it down when you want a more...LuthorCorp look to match those Armani suits. Dress it up, dress it down. It's all in the cut." Lex looked at him in the mirror like he had grown a third head. "What? It can't be anymore dated than that ponytail I saw you pulling out as you were coming up the walkway." Lex just shook his head.

"On days like this I wish I were bald," he said, dismissively. Duke erupted into laughter. "You laugh, but I'm serious. It would make my life a whole lot easier." He sighed. "OK, do your thing," he said, and Duke began to cut.