InsaneJournal

No salon worth its salt would've shut its doors on a Friday afternoon. None that cared to stay in business, at least. Not unless they had a very, very good reason to cancel all appointments, text their staff not to come in, and flip the sign on the door to 'Sorry, We're Closed!'

Cinna was staring at one such reason. The woman with the slit throat hadn't moved an inch. She never did. He still worried that if he took his eyes off her for more than an instant, she might come at him.

For what purpose, he couldn't say. She was already dead. And the dead were the one kind of people he had yet to see commit any acts of violence.

A knock at the door made him jump. From the corner of his eye, through the frosted glass, Cinna glimpsed a form he knew well: tall, with a mop of curls on his head and a perfectly tailored coat draping his slender frame.

Speaking of the dead…

Cringing away from the thought, Cinna called out, "It's open!" but didn't look away from the salon's only other presence.

The dead woman wouldn't be visible from the doorway. There was still a chance that by the time Thomas walked in, she would have vanished. Again.