2007-11-14: Hair Razing


Church_icon.gif Felix_icon.gif Mariska_icon.gif

Summary: Lawrence has a few problems. He goes to Felix for assistance in solving them.

Date It Happened: November 14th, 2007

Hair Razing

Queens, NYC - Felix's Apartment

It's a pleasant, airy apartment, with pale hardwood floors and high ceilings. The front door leads into a little entryway with a coat closet on the right and the door to the miniscule kitchen on the left. It then opens out into a living room crammed with bookshelves - there's barely enough room for a plain entertainment center and a dark green couch. Beyond that a short hall leads to the bathroom and two bedrooms, the second of which is more an office and spare room, judging by the desk and the weight bench stored there.

Overall, the decor is spartan at best, with little by way of personal touches. The only decoration in the kitchen is an antique icon shelved high in a corner, where the Mother of God smiles benignly at the infant on her lap. A blue glass vigil lamp burns before it. Over the doorway to the back hall is hung an officer's sabre; no mere trophy, it bears the mark of long and constant wear. There are a handful of posters and prints - mostly landscape, though a few are fencing-related.

Fel's at home. Alone, for once. Misha's out doing girl things, presumably back in Russia. So Fel is enjoying a glass of wine, and rewatching the Big Sleep for like the millionth time. He looks sleepy and content, in his shirtsleeves and slacks, bare feet stretched out before him.

It's not quite a rude awakening when the doorbell gets buzzed- but as it sounds as if it came out of nowhere, maybe it is. Lawrence has been as quiet as a mouse on his way up, and that is why. Outside the door, he shifts side to side in his November coat, with an out of place cap on his head. Just plain black, pulled down to around his brows.

There's the darkening of the peephole, before Fel opens the door. "Evening, Lawrence," he says, with unwonted warmth. Wine apparently improves his temper a great deal.

That fact is enough to make Church tilt his head and squint in momentary suspicion. When it is clear that Felix is Felix, Lawrence crosses his arms in a fidgeting motion and chews on his tongue on the inside of his mouth. "Felix." Dramatic pause! He even glances into the apartment. "I have a problem."

Felix arches his brows enquiringly, and moves aside to let him in. "Misha's out for now, shopping, but I can help? Or try to?" he suggests, gently.

Church doesn't say a word as he sidles past Felix into the apartment. Only when he is safely inside the living room, does the man stop and turn around. At the same time, he also lifts a gloved hand to wrench the fabric beanie off of his head, and lowers his eyebrows at the Russian. Very seriously.

Well, that's new. He's a blonde now. Not yellow, more sandy. Though, to a discerning eye, the job isn't actually a professional one. Hence, 'problem'.

Fel may not be metrosexual, but he's got taste enough to recoil like a vampire confronted by a crucifix. "Oh, god, that's awful," he says, flatly. "What in hell possessed you to do that? Were you drunk?"

Church sighs through his nose at that visible recoil. "…It wasn't me." Instead of stuffing the hat back on his now-gold head, Church shoves it in his coat pocket. "Teenagers are vile… creatures." Truth be told, if one ignores the fact he just went Super Saiyan- a darker blonde may be fitting, but as of now it seems like he stepped out of a bad date with the hair product aisle.

Fel steps closer to eye it, critically. "Well. If you can afford it, have it professionally redyed. If not, get something from a drugstore and do it yourself? At worst, just shave it and regrow it," he suggests. "How'd they get you?"

Church lifts his hand again to rub through it. It just seems to puff up afterwards. "You know those nerf guns? The little ones?" He even pulls the back up to show Felix where it's still brown underneath. "They got some little redhead girl too, and man, she's worse off than me. Looks like someone drew spots on her head." He can't stop touching it, now with both hands. "…Did you seriously just tell me to shave my head?"

"I did. You could pull it off, and your hair would grow back new. Dying hair makes it weak and brittle," Fel explains, before remembering his manners. "You wanna glass of wine?" he wonders. "A decent red."

Church is trying to hide under his hands until Felix moves away from Hair Topics. "Who shaves their hair in November? Can I have two?" That's either because this is Traumatizing, or sometimes that food burn deals with drink too. Both, perhaps. In any case, his gloves come off, and he laughs nervously before redirecting his frustration. "I kinda feel like sending a picture of this to Ben. He'd never believe it."

"No, but I will give you a full glass," Felix says, gravely, though his eyes are twinkling with amusement, as he saunters into the kitchen to pour out another goblet of the red, which he immediately hands to Church.

Church takes his coat off when Felix disappears into the kitchen; he didn't know how long he had intended to stay, but as long as he's here, right? When Felix comes back, Lawrence has his phone out, with the little camera lens up to take a picture of himself. "It looks like I stepped out of a cartoon, when it sticks up. It's all… gooky." Which is… not a word. The picture and phone are tucked away to be shared at a later date. Lawrence accepts the glass with a slight squint at the shorter man. "Is your pimp hand strong, Felix?" What-.

Felix solemnly offers the wine glass, even as he wonders, "What're you talking about, Lawrence?" He snorts at the phone. "Do you really want to memorialize that for future generations?"

"I'm saving it so I can constantly remind myself never to trust the ones wearing jackets in the classroom. Kind of like how I have pictures of myself with a moustache to remind myself never again." Point noted. Lawrence drowns his mouth for a few seconds. "Cause if you're not too inebriated, and you've got an electric razor- I could use a hand."

"I have one, I just don't know if it's charged. I shave with a….." And Fel, for once, is at a loss for the English word. "Britva. A..fighting razor?" he says, frowning at himself. "Damn. A bit young to be developing aphasia, right?" But he motions towards the bathroom off the back of the hall."

Church laughs, spry and sounding as if he's won something. "As long as you don't decide to become a vengeful barber, that's cool." Lawrence gives Felix a triumphant smile before he kicks up his heels towards the end of the hall. He is going to win this battle, you see.

It's a tiny bathroom, with shower and tub, toilet, little sink. Felix wasn't lying - a straight razor with a black handle gleams on a shelf by the sink, next to the sink. Above it, plugged into the outlet just under the light fixture, is an actual electri razor. Lucky Church won't get barbered by Felix. "No. No Sweeney Todd, here,' he says, smirking to himself.

"I am disappointed." Because it is almost fitting. Though the thought of Felix cutting out anyone at all is somewhat disheartening. Lawrence eyes that straight razor as he picks up the electric one to test it, and sets his glass up on that little shelf. At least he won't be cutting off his ears, if this thing does work. "Maybe I'll grow a beard, since I know it'll be safe from un-Sweeneys."

"I do know how to fight with it," Felix observes. "Had an uncle teach me, back when I was a kid. But I won't hurt you," he says, reaching over into the linen closet for towels.

Bzzzzz. Buzzzzz. Bzzzzt. The razor isn't being so much tested now, as it is being played with. "You won't hurt me, eh?" For a few seconds, there is a glittering look on Lawrence's face- like some manner of bird stumbling upon something shiny. His smile goes from amused to coyote-like and back again, as the thought of buzzing Felix's head wanders through his brain. You might be able to see it walking behind his eyes. Luckily, it walks right out the other side.

And for some reason, Felix blushes at that. And steps back. "I won't," he says, with mock solemnity, though his eyes are dancing. "I am not, however, joining you in this particular ritual. I like my hair."

Church squints just for a second at that change in color. That big white smile is back again because of it, as well as a jaunty tilt of the head. "Hah. Do you? Well, I don't like mine, so-" Lawrence pauses for a mouthful from his glass again, then leaning over to nudge the tiny trash can into the open. Then peering straight at Felix: "-we doing this quick and dirty, or a little bit at a time?" It's not really a Freudian slip, but it's certainly…reminiscent; this time he didn't catch himself doing it, either.

"It's probably easiest to clip it short with scissors, and then take the razor to it. That electric one isn't powerful enough to deal with more than stubble. And I am sure as hell not shaving your head with a fighting razor," Fel notes, wryly, before arching a brow at Church. "I'm a married man, Lawrence.

"Yeah, I know. With no wedding cake." Church replies, voice mockingly sad. "I didn't even see a garter." Nope, sir, right over his Super Saiyan head. "Where're your scissors?"

Felix drops his gaze, as if momentarily embarassed. But he reaches into the medicine cabinet, and produces a pair of scissors. "These will do. I know. I need to take her on a honeymoon."

Church eyes the scissors for another moment, then the mirror. He almost cringes. Almost. It's in his eyes as he perches himself on the side of the bathtub. "Okay. Do me." He says it Very Seriously, Right at Felix. It seems as if he might not realize it again, but in fact he knows exactly what he just said.

Felix snorts. "You just like baiting me 'cause you know I won't," Felix says, even as he takes the scissors and starts clipping briskly. "But I suppose verbal flirting is all right."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Just verbal? I could always buy you flowers too, Felix. You just gotta ask."

Felix says, with an expression that's an odd mingling of wistful and amused, "I once jokingly complained to an ex of mine that he never got me flowers. He came home the next day with a cactus in a pot," Well, you didn't need that blond hair, Church, and you don't get o keep it. He's deft, despite trying not to laugh.

Church seems to actually be listening to that, judging by the silence from down in front. "That's not flowers." Snort. "Did you stick him with it? Please say you did."

"I did not. I kept it until it outgrew the pot, and put it another pot. I didn't get rid of it until he died," he says. "Really, flowers aren't my thing. And I don't think Misha would appreciate it if you did."
Oh. The slight sinking of Lawrence's broader shoulders can be seen and felt while one is this close. On the other side of his head, the man now has a thoughtfully silent look on his face. Where was I? "…I've gotten her flowers before. It's only fair."

Felix pauses to laugh. "You have. Surely you're not after the both of us, Church," he says, sweeping aside some of the fallen hair with his feet.

"You never know. I'm a downright weasel." He pauses. "Or maybe I'm just that sweet. Take your pick."

"Just greedy, huh?" Fel says, drily, before forcibly turning Church's head with a hand so he can get at the remaining hair. "You'll have to tell your students you joined the Marines."

"Oh, now you're just getting rough with me." Lawrence teases, eyes swiveling to find Felix's face. "Not greedy, I promise. They'd never buy the Marines. I think I'll just tell'em that I didn't buy someone flowers." Revenge haircut. Obviously.

Felix just eyes Church, but there's definite speculation there. He doesn't say anything, but merely offers one of those sphinxish grins. "That might work," he says, blandly.

"Speaking of students. You know much about nailing drug operations?"

"I….." Fel meets Church's gaze in the mirror, clearly bemused by the question. "Not in -schools-, if that's what you're asking?"

"I wish that wasn't what I was asking. We have… a whole set of problems over there." Lawrence lifts his hand to draw it over his lower face with a short sniff of air. "Either the faculty wants to help and tries, or wants to help, but can't. It's one of those cases where money and influence seems to be above the school." Look who's talking, Mister Bag'n'tag. "I'm trying to figure out the best way to bust it up and help start an anti-drug program at the same time, and I figured I would ask if you knew much about it. It's basically drug operation lite, though." It may or may not be strange that he's getting so involved with this so-called cover story. While he's there, he should do something good, right? That is really all it is.

"I….was always organized crime, really. I didn't deal much with Narco. I still have some friends there, though, I could talk to," Fel says, musingly, reaching up for the electric razor. Now the real fun begins, apparently.

Being on the other side of that maniacal buzzing noise is a whole new deal for Church. It was funny when he thought about it, but now that Felix is wielding it- "…If you carve something into my hair, I'll turn on you like a wild animal." Seriously. "Don't buzz me bald, neither. I'm a secret agent, not mister Clean." It's an awful like cutting a picky son's hair, only he is forty-five and has such explosive heartburn.

Felix notes, in a lazy drawl, "I -could- get you a gold earring. I think I've got one left over from back when I thought I was punk," But he nods, pushing Church's head down to get at the base of the skull. It's short, but not entirely hairless.

Church quiets down as to not bump around, but he still mumbles out from under Felix's nudging, as if to be naturally fidgety. "But. Yeah. I'd appreciate it if you could possibly find someone for me to meet with. It's getting bad. A little more than a week ago, they had to call in an ambulance cause some little rascal owed too much money. Now there's another kid they're eyeballing because he snitched. Been keeping my eye on him."

It's an oddly domestic scene, in a very weird sort of way. Namely, Fel in his shirtsleeves and slacks has got Church sitting on the edge of the bathtub, and is currently running an electric razor-clipper-thingy over Church's denuded scalp. He's not shining bald, but it's not much longer than one of those military cuts. "I will call tomorrow. I think Wishneuski still works Narco, he might be able to come play Officer Friendly."

As a note- "Gold earrings are there in moustache territory, pal." And as for Officer Friendly, Church visibly considers it, both eyebrows kneading together. "I'm thinking that if we can introduce some alternatives and get the kids talking about it instead of sleeping at the assemblies- then when a police presence shows up, it'll change something. Wouldn't hurt to take out the suppliers, either." The last sentence is spoken largely to himself, as if he may already be forming something.

"Next thing you know, it'll be leather chaps, and then everything's gone to hell," Felix says, deadpan. "You'll notice I don't wear jewelry now." For all that he's got a little scar on his left earlobe where that earring got ripped straight out in a moshpit. Once upon a time, Felix was sixteen with blue hair and piercings. Hard to believe. "And yes. It may be possible to make it clear that the adults are watching like hawks."

"At what point did you think of me in leather chaps?" Well, he had to have thought of it in order to say it- right? "Maybe not hawks. More like moles."

"Earring and moustache," Fel explains, tipping Church's head to one side again. "There are parts of gay culture I never will understand," he says, shaking his head. "And I see. You want to take these guys down, not just drive 'em off school grounds."

"I. Uhh. Egh." Lawrence makes a few unidentifiable sounds in response, but they are somewhere between disgust and confusion. Moving on. "If we kick them out, they'll just go somewhere else."

Felix confirms, running the clipper around the curve of an ear, "That they will," His tone is calm, even.

After a short pause permeated by buzzing- "…My god, now I can't stop thinking about the leather chaps." Church blames you, Felix. "Bad dye job, gold earring, pornstache- I've created a mental monster."

Felix puts a palm on Church's head, like a priest about to give benediction, and abandons himself to helpless laughter. His eyes are streaming when he's done.

Church waits those few seconds after the hand finds a place on his head, expecting something more profound than Felix laughing his ass off. "Hey. Hey!" This isn't fair! Church gets the horrible images, and Felix is able to laugh while he's cringing on the inside. "Please tell me there are scarier things. Otherwise I think I know what I'm doing for Halloween next year."

Fel comes to a wheezing halt, though he's still grinning too broadly. "Yeah. I don't know what, but I'm sure there are," he says, wiping his eyes.


As if on cue, Mariska manifests in the usual ear-popping way that she is wont to do. She appears initially in the living room, shuffling out of her winter coat and tossing it over the arm of the couch instead of seeing it hung in the closet. She comes bearing no gifts, only herself, and a second later she's whipcracked into the bedroom and already begun to peel out of her turtleneck while walking simultaneously into the bathroom. There's a moment or two there where she's pretty much right-out giving both boys a show without realizing it, face and upper arms still hidden while she struggles to free herself from her shirt. That's a nice bra, eh? It's all… lacy. And stuff.

Two seconds later. cue the abruptly startled scream. 'Oh hi, Church, what are you doing here?' That's what that shout translates to. Thereabouts.

At this point, Lawrence knows that background noise by heart, but it's still surprising to hear it out of nowhere. There are really only a few seconds between that and Mariska's appearance in the doorway of the bathroom, and when she does appear- Church has just put his head facing the door, and she has her head stuck in her shirt. That razor had best be in a safer place, because between the screaming and the surprise boobs- Church is so astounded/dumbfounded/surprised- that he falls backwards right into the vinyl bathtub with a loud *thunk*, feet halfway into the air. Whoops.

Felix is left frozen in mid-clip, while the razor buzzes angrily for a moment before Felix abruptly shuts it off. "Mariska," he says, expression a nearly unreadable mixture of amusement, surprise, and embarassment. "Hey. Church's kids played a prank on him, so, there goes his hair." No, that wasn't even half an explanation, but it's all he can come up with, on short notice.

Mariska is putting passable effort into the classic 'oh, my maiden modesty!' pose, using the shirt she's just climbed out of to cover her chest while she exits the suddenly crowded bathroom in a hurry. "Sorry," she shouts from the safety of the bedroom. There's the sound of draws sliding open and then being shoved shut. When she reappears again a few moments later, she's fully-dressed again but she initially opts to make a cameo as only a dark-haired head peeking around the jamb for the first second or two before slinking slowly into view and affecting a lean in the doorway "Are you alright?" she wonders of the toppled Church while simultaneously making no effort to help him right himself if he hasn't already.

Church wriggles himself around to right his now upside-down world. When the missus reappears, the Interloper peers out at her while pulling himself out of the bathtub. He stares for a few seconds longer, this time. Well. Because. Maybe it's not all at her face, either. The expression he wears is neutral, but a forced neutral rather than natural.

"I'll…live." He clears his throat. Church has had worse. As if to accentuate his well-being, he puts a hand on his hip and the other against the wall. See? We're good. Totally awesome.

Church gets a scolding cuff from Felix, palm of the hand to skull. Not hard, not much more than teasing, but enough to make him notice. Don't look at my wife like that. And then he seizes Church's skull with the long fingers of one hand. "Almost done here," he says, a touch curtly. "Misha, how was your day?" he wonders, tone much more mild.

A little, unassuming smirk wells at the corners of Misha's mouth while Church struggles to reassert his confused sexuality and Felix plays the straight man. She lingers lightly in the doorway, loosely locking her arms over a plain gray t-shirt. "Long," she says, passing a look between the two fellows for a moment before she turns up the amplitude on her smile. "I didn't know you had children…" Church. She's talking to Church. "When do we get to meet them?"

Church is smiling almost dreamily over at Misha when *smack*- Felix pops him in the back of the head. There was no confusion there, and Felix probably saw it coming from miles away anyway. "Ow." Only hurting his pride, not his head. Doubly so when Felix wrenches him about to finish the hair job. Lawrence does cooperate, though giving Mariska a forlorn look all along.

When she asks about his spawn, Church can't help but snicker and grin. "Yeah! I have about a thousand of them, and they all live in a big brick building downtown. Lunchtime is a riot."

"Church is a teacher, out inna real world," Felix explains, as he finishes, and runs a palm over Church's scalp to test the evenness of the cut. Now the older man looks like nothing so much as a drill sergeant.

Oh. He's a teacher. The Russian woman's smile slowly begins to fade away into something significantly more subdued but no less genuine. "Ah, I see." She then tilts her head ever so slightly to the side in order to carefully observe this new (and improved?) version of Church — same great ego, now with less hair to hog the glory from his magnificent chin!

"Are you petting me?" Church asks down at Felix, one eyebrow lifting and a crooked smile moving over his features. He takes the next few seconds to check himself out in the mirror and brush a hand over the new-do; the shorn man gives Mariska a smirk in the reflection when she looks over too. "I look pretty damn slick, don't I?" Lawrence stands straighter now, wearing that same satisfied, charming grin. Meanwhile, both hands are loosening the tie around his collar just a smidgen.

Felix abruptly snatches his hand away, though he doesn't blush. "No," he says, crossly. "TEsting to make sure I'd got it even. You're such a dog, Church," Someone get the fire extinguisher.

"Absolutely," says Misha, smile still hung on her lips. She's donned a mildly taciturn demeanor for the evening, or so it would seem, but before she disappears back into the bedroom, she asks, "Will you be staying for dinner?"

"It's totally okay if you want to pet me, Felix. I'd want to pet me. I am a dog, after all; you just said it yourself-" After a few seconds of mental debate, he opts to leave his tie as it is. "If you want to feed me, I won't stop you." His subtle way of saying 'does anyone ever learn?'. Apparently not that well.

"Do we have enough -food- for that?" Fel wonders, only somewhat sotto voce, as he follow Misha. "We can get take out. And I'm not petting you, you pervert," Felix retorts.

There's a little murmur of Russian that gets passed between Mariska and Felix before the woman turns around and hooks an arm in with Church, reaches a hand up not to pet his buzzed head but rather to wipe away a few stray hairs from his shoulder. "It suits you," she says confidently up to the other man.

"You're such a party pooper, Felix." Mariska, however, is less of one. Church smiles slightly down at her when she hooks onto him. He lifts a hand to pat at her arm in return. "«Thank you, Mariska.»" Whoa, hold the presses! Guidebook Russian, ahoy.

Felix eyes Misha, and smiles slyly to himself. "Of course, my dear. And I won't even ask that you shave," he says, as he leads the way into the kitchen.

Mariska strives to disguise her look of blushing astonishment at Felix's reply to whatever it is she said to him by smiling big and wide up at Church and uttering a very pronounced diction, «You are welcome.»

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