Eh. Dumb filler chapter today that I randomly dumped here just to get it out of the way. The next one is better.

Chapter 18 – Disagreement

"No."

"You have to."

"I'm not letting you do this to me."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I don't trust you."

"Skulduggery, I am cutting your hair whether you like it or not!" Clarity spat, stalking towards Skulduggery with a pair of scissors in hand. The detective was in the corner of the kitchen, defiance blazing in his eyes as he expertly evaded the cryptid's grasp.

"You're going to make me look like an idiot," Skulduggery said.

"I am not!"

The two continued to bicker like children until Saracen stepped in, taking the scissors from Clarity's hands and putting them down on the table.

"Clarity, sweetheart, I think you should leave men's fashion to the men," he advised. "Now, shoo. Go gossip with Valkyrie and Tanith on the phone."

Clarity glowered in Skulduggery's direction before relenting and leaving. Let the men fight it out, they thought.

Now Skulduggery, Saracen, Dexter and Erskine were the only ones in the kitchen.

"Don't think I'm trusting you lot to fix my look," the detective objected. "If I do that, then I'm liable to wind up with something ridiculous."

"Oh, come on, Skull," Dexter said, exasperated. "It'll just be a trim so that you don't look like a hippie when you go back to work."

Skulduggery frowned. All jokes aside, Dexter was right. His hair was getting quite long, resulting in it becoming a nuisance; constantly falling over his face and obscuring his vision. Heck, it was long enough to tie back into a ponytail.

"Just a trim," he growled. "Otherwise I will kill you in your sleep."

"Empty threats, Pleasant," Dexter dismissed. "Empty threats."

Rolling his eyes, Skulduggery begrudgingly sat in one of the kitchen chairs and waited for one of the men to proceed to butcher his hair. He fought the urge to flinch when someone picked up a small portion of it and started snipping away at the ends.

"Time to get the hair gel!" Saracen announced suddenly, turning to leave.

"Don't you dare," Skulduggery snarled, twitching his head in the other mage's direction. If looks could kill, then Saracen would be dead on the ground right now.

"Mind facing forward again?" Erskine asked quietly from behind him, surprising the detective.

"You can cut hair?" Skulduggery queried.

"I trim my own hair. You didn't know?"

"Actually, I didn't. I thought you had your own personal barber."

The exasperated sigh he got in response made him smirk. "I had an apprenticeship with my uncle before the war. He owned that barber shop in Dublin, remember?"

"Oh. I didn't know that."

"Never mind. Shut up and let me do my job."

They dropped into silence for a while, whilst Dexter and Saracen chatted in the corner. Aside from the hushed sound of their voices and the quick, efficient sound of scissors sheering through hair, the kitchen was silent.

"Done," Erskine announced, putting down the scissors and brushing away the pieces of hair that had accumulated on Skulduggery's shoulders. "Not bad, if I do say so myself."

"Is there a mirror anywhere?" Skulduggery asked as he stood up and straightened out his hair.

"Downstairs bathroom," Dexter said, pointing out of the kitchen. "Careful not to crack it."

Scowling at Dexter, Skulduggery headed towards the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror. He was impressed. It was still somewhat long towards the back, but the front gradually got shorter and framed his face and jaw nicely, giving him a refined yet somewhat rugged appearance. It was somewhat reminiscent of how he'd looked before he'd died. Although during the war, he'd often looked half wild after several months living in ditches whilst tailing Mevolent's forces.

"Did I do alright?" Erskine ventured as Skulduggery walked out.

"Wonderfully," Skulduggery said, placing a gentle kiss on Erskine's forehead. "I should have asked you to do my hair earlier."

This was going to happen sooner or later. After all, Skulduggery's hair grows like any other person's.