He'd quite finished rinsing her hair by now, but she'd completely distracted him from putting conditioner in, which he now reached for and worked into her hair, tip to roots. The correct way. "Yes," he replied as he worked, "If you'd sit still long enough for me to finish, she'll be cutting your hair." He hated people who squirmed. It made washing hair so much more difficult than it needed to be.
She pretty much summed it up. "Oh good, you were listening." He rolled his eyes at her for the umpteenth time. But she'd asked him a very serious question, one which he didn't have an answer to. Photography and film school were at the top of the maybe list. The answer she got was, "Sell drugs."