"I really don't understand why we're doing this again..."
"Stop moving your head."
As Azriel complained and Jasmine chided him, his expression darkened even more. He sat still, staring at himself in the mirror while Jasmine stood behind him, one hand on his head, the other working a pair of scissors through his hair.
"When you cut your own hair, it was so messy it honestly made me want to vomit," she said. "Even after I fixed it, that doesn't mean it was good. It would be a waste on your undeserving face if your hair didn't match."
Azriel rolled his eyes.
"Are you sure you're going to be the next Crimson King? Perhaps starting a salon would suit you more, considering how adept you are at this."
Jasmine narrowed her eyes, focused on his hair, and scoffed.
"Unlike you, little brother, who spent eighty percent of his time lazing around when we were young, I was diligently taking all kinds of lessons."
