Having someone stand behind him was quite as nerve-wracking as being touched, but he'd known when he set out for advice that this was all part of the business. He didn't cringe as her fingers gently separated his hair, though he was mentally bracing himself for some derisive variant of 'greasy git'.
Two months. Not long then, yet it sounded like she'd adapted well. He, on the other hand? He scoffed a little at the question and shrugged.
"Better than I expected considering everything. People here are quite . . . open-minded. Unfortunately, a haircut and some different clothes can't disguise my tendency to be abrasive, so there we are. I'm managing. Better than dead at any rate."
Like most salons, there was a mirror nearby and he watched her in its reflection as she evaluated his hair. "Hopeless then, is it?"