The mirror of the bathroom reflected back at him. He needed a change. Scissors in his hand were brought up to start cutting his hair. All he knew how to do was run and make mistakes. It was a mistake to care. It was a mistake to let the Godfrey's into his life. Letha had been ripped away from them. He should have seen that coming. Holding out his long locks, he put the scissors halfway up.
As the sharp edge should have hit his hair, the scissors were gone. Eyes wide, hand held up to the shift of the bathroom light to... "What the fuck?" How? "What?!" He said louder to himself. Turning away from whatever reflective surface he had been staring at that was not his trailer's mirror, he came face to face with Roman.
"What am I doing here?! I don't even know where here is." He was about to mention that it was more White Tower bullshit when- mid brush of his hair to the side- Peter noticed the cut on his arm. "What the fuck, Roman." He grabbed his arm to hold the wound together to promote healing. "What are you doing?"