Fuzzy
Robin didn't like the beard.
It was just so ugly. It was black and bristly, and it completely hid Amon's sharp chin. It made him look completely different, like she didn't even know him.
And that, as Amon somewhat irritably reminded her, was the whole point. Growing a beard made him a little harder to recognize. If anyone saw him on the streets, the beard would be the first thing they would remember. They would never identify him with the smooth-chinned Hunter that Solomon was looking for.
Robin couldn't agree. Even if she didn't like it, the beard was hardly the most striking thing about Amon Beard or no beard, he would stand out in a crowd simply because of his height, build, and general attitude toward life.
And his eyes. No one could forget his eyes.
They were so cold, icy, she reflected, yet so obviously hiding some life beneath. To anyone just meeting him—she grinned as she thought about her own first meeting—they seemed so clear cut, so defined. But if you knew how to look, you could spot the life that sparkled beneath, a life which, strangely enough, fed that very coldness.
Everything about Amon was like that. Cold, sharp, as if cut from stone, and yet so full of mystery and (she felt) life. His eyes, his hair, his coat, his very movements were all perfect examples of restraint, control. It was not a façade. It was a physical evidence of who Amon was.
That was part of the reason why she didn't like the beard. It was… fuzzy, she decided, grimacing at the words. It was an indistinct mass among a clearly defined world. It was as if somewhere, his face had lost restraint and decided to grow hairs. Recognizing the ridiculousness of the image, she covered her mouth to suppress a giggle.
No, she didn't like the beard. And neither did Amon, she felt. She'd seen the look of distaste in his face everytime he looked in the mirror, and she'd seen the way he ran his hand over the bristles. He didn't like it either. But he considered it necessary, so he did it.
Very straightforward. Very clear-cut. Everything the beard was NOT.
Robin sighed, and Amon glanced across at her from their seat on the bus. "What's the matter?" The whiskers grunted.
Robin forced a smile. "I was thinking…" She looked down at her hands a moment. "I was thinking I should cut my hair shorter."
A/N: Hey, Whaddaya know! Another chapter! Review and let me know how it was!
This was a bizarre idea I was toying around. Being on the run, it's very natural that Amon would grow a beard, both for the reasons I have here, and the simple fact that he wouldn't have enough time to shave. Of course, Robin, if she's like most girls, probably wouldn't like that. So that's what it started as.
If anyone's worried (which I doubt), I should maybe say that both Amon's and Robin's changes are temporary.