Post by oyani on Jun 24, 2018 20:04:52 GMT
Amin adjusted the cushion on the seat before he playfully whacked its back, sending it into a spin. "Not bad," he said. "I can easily adjust the height too. Thanks for the gift."
"I am not usually called on to supply barber chairs," she replied, stepping into the small shop. She quietly closed the door behind her. "And excuse me if I express scepticism as to your motives."
Amin chuckled as he reached into his duffle bag, pulling out a kit, which he rolled out onto the counter, revealing the scissors and razors contained therein. "I'm settling down. Haven't you heard?"
"You're setting up a barber shop. On DS9. In the middle of a conflict." T'Amar arched her eyebrow. "Logical."
"It's not too hard to believe, T'Amar," he replied, smiling, removing a pair of scissors, which he held up to the dim light. "It's time for a change of pace. Besides..." he chuckled "I may have worn out my welcome on Ain 1: I'm not Admiral tr'Kassus' favourite cup of relen tea."
T'Amar blinked, "You were there, planetside, recently?"
He nodded with a grin. "For the trial actually. I even gave him a cheerful wink when they called the verdict. I don't need to describe his expression."
"No. Indeed." She glanced idilly around the bare store. "So? What are you calling this venture of yours?"
"The Chop Shop, I think?" Amin inspected the scissors.
"How unoriginally on the nose."
"Quite. But you're in luck. I'm specialising in Romulan hairstyles: all four of them." Amin ran a finger along the top of his forehead. "I'm not a fan of the new Republic styles, but I'm sure with a bit of practice, I could whip up a reasonable Jarok look for a cosplay enthusiast. In fact, I might have a steady Republic customer already."
T'Amar looked at him expectantly.
"Admiral Arrhae t'Mendak," he smiled. "You'd like her, T'Amar. Strong house. Manor on Mol'Rihan. Her father is a politician. A lovely woman with strong ridges. You know who doesn't have strong ridges? Your son." He snapped the scissors.
T'Amar twitched. "I will be on my way then." She moved toward the doorway, "May your business find sufficient profit or you are audited for fraud violations."
Amin lowered his scissors with a chuckle. "Come now. Wait!" He removed a PADD from his duffle bag, as she left her hand dangling against the threshold. "I had to put swift end to my conversation with Admiral t'Mendak last night," he continued, "to attend to this." He waved the PADD in front of her. "More to the point: intercepted communications from your son. Nveid's making quite the name for himself on Mira Maj VI."
T'Amar exhaled and sharply marched toward him, reaching out to snatch the PADD. Smiling, Amin slid the PADD behind his back. "He's a lot like you, T'Amar. A chip off the old block. A real temper. He must get his stoicism from his father."
T'Amar glared at him "And what do you want in return?" she bit back. "A hairdryer?"
Amin quietly laughed. "Careful with that anger, T'Amar. Lest someone accuses you of suffering from Bendii Syndrome." He tapped the chair. "I'm just a barber. And you're my first customer." He tapped the back of the chair again, smiling.
T'Amar stared at him a moment before she slowly sat down on the chair. Amin swivelled the chair towards the mirror and pulled out a black clock. With a delighted grin, he whipped it in the air, before throwing it over the disinterested Vulcan and snapped the velcro around her neck. He dropped the PADD onto her lap. "Now," he said, gently tugging the grey hair around her ears, "What can I do for you today, Miss?"
T'Amar put her hands on the PADD, coolly meeting his amused gaze in the mirror.
"Romulan 1," she replied.
"I am not usually called on to supply barber chairs," she replied, stepping into the small shop. She quietly closed the door behind her. "And excuse me if I express scepticism as to your motives."
Amin chuckled as he reached into his duffle bag, pulling out a kit, which he rolled out onto the counter, revealing the scissors and razors contained therein. "I'm settling down. Haven't you heard?"
"You're setting up a barber shop. On DS9. In the middle of a conflict." T'Amar arched her eyebrow. "Logical."
"It's not too hard to believe, T'Amar," he replied, smiling, removing a pair of scissors, which he held up to the dim light. "It's time for a change of pace. Besides..." he chuckled "I may have worn out my welcome on Ain 1: I'm not Admiral tr'Kassus' favourite cup of relen tea."
T'Amar blinked, "You were there, planetside, recently?"
He nodded with a grin. "For the trial actually. I even gave him a cheerful wink when they called the verdict. I don't need to describe his expression."
"No. Indeed." She glanced idilly around the bare store. "So? What are you calling this venture of yours?"
"The Chop Shop, I think?" Amin inspected the scissors.
"How unoriginally on the nose."
"Quite. But you're in luck. I'm specialising in Romulan hairstyles: all four of them." Amin ran a finger along the top of his forehead. "I'm not a fan of the new Republic styles, but I'm sure with a bit of practice, I could whip up a reasonable Jarok look for a cosplay enthusiast. In fact, I might have a steady Republic customer already."
T'Amar looked at him expectantly.
"Admiral Arrhae t'Mendak," he smiled. "You'd like her, T'Amar. Strong house. Manor on Mol'Rihan. Her father is a politician. A lovely woman with strong ridges. You know who doesn't have strong ridges? Your son." He snapped the scissors.
T'Amar twitched. "I will be on my way then." She moved toward the doorway, "May your business find sufficient profit or you are audited for fraud violations."
Amin lowered his scissors with a chuckle. "Come now. Wait!" He removed a PADD from his duffle bag, as she left her hand dangling against the threshold. "I had to put swift end to my conversation with Admiral t'Mendak last night," he continued, "to attend to this." He waved the PADD in front of her. "More to the point: intercepted communications from your son. Nveid's making quite the name for himself on Mira Maj VI."
T'Amar exhaled and sharply marched toward him, reaching out to snatch the PADD. Smiling, Amin slid the PADD behind his back. "He's a lot like you, T'Amar. A chip off the old block. A real temper. He must get his stoicism from his father."
T'Amar glared at him "And what do you want in return?" she bit back. "A hairdryer?"
Amin quietly laughed. "Careful with that anger, T'Amar. Lest someone accuses you of suffering from Bendii Syndrome." He tapped the chair. "I'm just a barber. And you're my first customer." He tapped the back of the chair again, smiling.
T'Amar stared at him a moment before she slowly sat down on the chair. Amin swivelled the chair towards the mirror and pulled out a black clock. With a delighted grin, he whipped it in the air, before throwing it over the disinterested Vulcan and snapped the velcro around her neck. He dropped the PADD onto her lap. "Now," he said, gently tugging the grey hair around her ears, "What can I do for you today, Miss?"
T'Amar put her hands on the PADD, coolly meeting his amused gaze in the mirror.
"Romulan 1," she replied.