Fawkes

A Splash of Colour

Because training wasn't scheduled that day, Dick wasted no time on busing with me to the hair dresser after I told him I wasn't busy. His trash talking and boasting was all I heard as I sat in a state of shocked silence while the bus traveled through Gotham. I didn't even have the sanity to flip off a man who hollered at me. Funnily enough, Dick actually flew to my defence. I didn't have the mental capacity to thank him, and I wouldn't have anyway, as he just continued to brag to me. I knew he was enjoying my silence. He even said so.

"Wow." He laughed, "I finally got you to shut up. This really is a happy day."

I remained silent, even as some deranged psychopath tried to grab me and Dick kicked him in the nads with no hesitation.

"I hate the bus," Dick grumbled, scrunching his nose up in disgust as a woman openly began painting her toenails.

I still didn't say a word, and once we reached our stop Dick had to drag me out of the door by the hand, his skin surprisingly soft against my calloused palm. I guess it made sense considering he wouldn't be using a gun every other day.

The small ding of the shop's bell signalled my and Dick's arrival at the hair place, and I snapped out of my daze enough to look around. It was a small, rundown shop, a few people scattered here and there receiving different hair cuts and treatments. I breathed in a shaky breath as Dick practically bounced to the counter.

"Hi, yes. I have an appointment for 4:00." He tapped the counter excitedly and the woman behind the desk, who sported a green Mohawk, scanned her paper before nodding.

"Second seat on the right."

Dick turned back to me and grinned, grabbing my hand again and leading me to the seat. I stood next to it and just stared at the leather, not daring to sit down in hopes that this may all be a dream.

"I made this appointment right after we made the deal," he said, "call me cocky, or a psychic. Sit."

I didn't move, and Dick rolled his eyes and lightly nudged me as the Mohawk lady walked over, spitting her gum right onto the floor as her heels clicked rhythmically.

It was so unbelievably like Grayson to bring me here, of all places. Anyone at Gotham Academy had enough money to afford a hair appointment at a genuinely nice dresser, so that's what I assumed when Dick said he'd pay for me. I shouldn't have been surprised that he would end up taking me to the sketchiest part of Downtown Gotham, just to spook and spite me. It was a classic move, and I would be lying if I said it wasn't working.

I shakily sat in the chair and pushed myself back. My feet didn't even go near the end of the seat, and it was my guess that this place wasn't for kids. It was no wonder that the woman looked so surprised to see us here. 1) This was a dangerous part of town and Dick and I were both not the tallest teenagers, 2) a girl coming in and asking for a full head of pink hair was suspicious enough, and 3) there were no parents, chaperones, or adults in general anywhere in sight. The woman had a right to be skeptical.

But she didn't ask questions, even as she put a bib around my shoulders and began bleaching my black hair. Even as I went from dark waves to blonde locks. Even as Dick burst out laughing at how different and absurd I looked with light hair. Even as I snapped out of my daze and started to regain my smart mouth. She just did her job. I was honestly grateful that she didn't say a word; it allowed Dick and I to continue our usual banter.

"This is great," Dick said, grinning at me.

"You really live up to your name, huh?"

"I cannot wait for people at school to see you with pink hair." He sat down on the bench across from me as the woman finished slathering dye all over my hair and wrapped it in plastic. "Say goodbye to your reputation."