8 months ago:

Dora Leigh had been in charge of Raven's hair ever since her first professional role six years ago. She watched the stylist's hands through the mirror, brushing dye onto the bottom section of her hair. The rest of her hair piled on the top of her head in clips, bleached at the tips.

"I think it's adorable, you and your co-star finishing off filming like this," Dora spoke up, something the Brit rarely did. Raven preferred her both for her style and her silence. Dora could speak, of course, and could gossip like no other. But she knew that Raven didn't, and respected that.

"What do you mean?"

Dora dipped the brush back in the dye bowl. "I saw Garfield's name in the appointment book. One o'clock? I just glanced at the clock and realized he should be here any second."

Raven's eyebrows came together. Garfield… Logan? Had an appointment here? Paranoid now, she eyed the door in the mirror. It only took two blinks for it to open, and in he waltzed. Garfield Freaking Logan.

He straightened his shirt, and then his eyes caught hers. It was so direct, the clashing of their gazes so immediate that if it weren't for the surprise splashed across his face, she would have accused him of planning this. The surprise gave way to a big, bright smile that had her fingers curling into fists.

"Here he is!" Dora enthused, waving the brush around. "I was just telling Raven how great it is that you two are doing this together."

"We're not doing it together," Raven asserted before Gar could so much as open his mouth. "This is pure, unpleasant coincidence."

It didn't affect his smile. "You call it coincidence, I call it fate."

Raven grimaced, and Dora swooned.

"Seriously, though, Rae, you know I get my hair dyed between movies. If this is anyone's fault, it's yours."

True enough, unfortunately. As far as she knew, this had been his ritual since his very first movie, except where he was also tied up with TV shows or cameos. It didn't have anything to do with why she was here, though. She'd done her hair like this back in high school - though the at home box dye never looked near as good as Dora's work. Back then she'd been dating Malchior. They crossed paths last week, and he complimented her switch to her natural black.

So here she sat.

She eyed Gar's reflection. "Do you have a problem with me getting my hair dyed?"

"No way, dude. I always thought you'd look badass with some, iunno, purple in your hair." He stepped closer. "Is that purple?"

"Eggplant," Dora supplied happily.

"Sweet, I bet it's gonna look great."

Raven frowned, suspicious of his enthusiasm. Without reason, really, because if he dyed his hair with grass green, why would he judge her for a splash of sensible purple? Then again, Malchior dyed his hair, too.

Since Gar had way less hair to dye and no need for bleaching, they finished up about the same time. Raven escaped out the door as he tipped his stylist, but shortly heard him bounding after her. She didn't slow down for him, but she didn't speed up either. He steadied on her left, matching her pace with an annoying bounce in his step.

"I was right."

She peered up at him before adjusting the strap of her purse and observing the traffic lights. "About?"

"It looks badass."

Her boots stopped clicking against the sidewalk, but it took him a second to realize she'd stopped. He rounded back to face her, pursing his lips like he might be in trouble. He wasn't, but she narrowed her eyes at him like he was.

"That's a good thing," he prompted, undaunted.

She reached up and slid her fingers through the strands, slippery soft from expensive salon conditioner. "You… like it?" Not that it would matter. Whether people like her outward appearance did little to sway her decisions. Except to contradict them, obviously. But she wasn't used to being complimented. Not genuinely. She got a lot of baseless compliments from press, coworkers, and fans, but they were little more than pleasantries or idle, starstruck admiration.

Whether she expected him to laugh it off or not, she wasn't ready for the pensive tilt to his mouth. She dropped her hand, annoyed that she'd shown him this little vulnerability.

"Never mind," she muttered, angling her shoulders to move past him. He sidestepped into her path. "Gar."

"Raven."

Her nose wrinkled. Before they really even got to know each other he'd been persistent with her, refusing to let a topic drop if he had more he wanted to say.

"It suits you. I mean, the jet black did, too, but the purple's like…" he huffed, apparently unable to find the appropriate words for what he was trying to convey. "Iunno, it's really pretty, anyway."

She wanted to grumble that his opinion didn't matter, that she didn't need to hear it, that he should just leave her alone, but none of that would be true. When was the last time someone called her pretty with open honesty in their eyes? When was the last time someone approved of her, not just for doing her job, but for her personal ideas and decisions? It was just hair, really, but it meant so much more.

"Or… should I just shut up?"

Raven blinked out of her thoughts, finding him with his hand latched nervously behind his neck. "Yes. But… thank you."

He grinned, hand dropping to shove, along with his other, into his pockets. "You're welcome, Rae."