She knew that look too well. It was the look that said, I'll do anything. The look that practically screamed, I won't tell a soul. It might have looked as though Dahlia was affected by the big, dark eyes as she dropped slowly to her knees, just inches away from his head. When she ran her fingers through his hair, it was almost a comforting gesture. Sympathetic.
Or not.
She brandished an electric razor, and her smile returned slowly, like mollasses sliding down bark. "Just gonna give you a little trim. Your hair's a little long for my tastes." With a simple flip of her thumb, the razor vibrated to life. She wasn't a professional, and she certainly didn't take her time to make sure the cut was pristine, but by the time she finished, his once shaggy, dark hair laid around his head like a macabre wreath.