[open + closed]

[altusimperius]

WHO: Benedict, Barrow, Teren, Fifi, whoever
WHAT: general catch all
WHEN: gestures vaguely
WHERE: gestures vaguely again
NOTES: hmu if you want something bespoke or honestly just throw something at me, I trust you

*~* starters in comments *~*

Comments

[laruetheday]

"I don't know," equally aggravated. He's the one who started yelling at her in the first place, he doesn't get to be offended!

Fine, though. Clarisse goes and conditions her hair. She conditions the hell out of her hair. By the time she's done, it smells nice and it's all soft and silky.

"Don't you dare hand me another bottle," she warns Benedict as she returns to him.

[altusimperius]

He's already holding one, but he sets it on the nearby counter and removes his hand quickly. He's innocent.

"Doesn't that feel better?" he asks, arching his eyebrows hopefully, "just wait till it's dry."
A pause, then he nudges his head toward the third bottle, "then you use this one."

[laruetheday]

"You're fucking with me."

Clarisse lifts a hand and gestures to her (admittedly nice-smelling) hair. "How can there be more?" She doesn't even sound mad, at this point, just baffled.

"Gods," she adds in a mutter, "you remind me of someone from home right now."

[altusimperius]

"Someone with good hair, I hope," Benedict remarks, passing over the third bottle, "twist it onto the ends. Don't get it in your scalp or you'll be a grease monster."

[laruetheday]

"Really great hair. Better than yours, even."

Clarisse takes the bottle. Fine, dammit.

[altusimperius]

A scoff of dismay. Better?

[laruetheday]

She just laughs, and starts heading for the changing rooms. Thanks for the product.

[altusimperius]

Benedict tosses his head with an indignant sniff, scrunching up his face at her for a moment before he turns to go himself. That's gratitude for you,