Rosalie Kasten is out of luck and out of time. For the last two years, she's been living on borrowed time. After her involvement with the death of Edwin Pierce - Alexander Pierce's son - it's only a matter of time before Hydra comes for her.
James...
❞𝐎𝐡, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬,❞ James barks from the bathroom. Rosalie looks up from her laptop. She watches him stride through the hallway towards the kitchen. A second later, he's walking back with a knife in his hands. Not a kitchen knife, of course. One of his usual large hunting knives. Her eyebrows furrow, and she puts down the laptop, getting up to follow him.
"Honey, what're you doing?" She asks while rounding the corner. He's holding a large fistful of hair and the knife is ready to cut it off, eyes staring at the clump of hair.
"Gettin' rid of this. It's too long. Been pissin' me off," he grumbles while staring intently into the mirror. Rosalie rushes forward, wrapping her hand around his wrist and lowering his hand with the knife.
"Alright, I think there are better ways to cut your hair," she worriedly says.
"What? That's how I've always done it," he scoffs, and her eyes go wide.
"My god," she huffs and opens the drawers. "Don't you have scissors somewhere?"
He opens the top one and ruffles through the mess of things there. Nothing is sorted and everything is placed haphazardly. He sticks his arm halfway inside, and it comes out with a set of scissors. They're meant for the kitchen, and she sighs. It'll do.
"Good, sit down," she says and nods over to the toilet. He stays on his feet.
"Just let me do it."
"No," she scoffs, "I'm not letting you do that after seeing what you were about to do with that knife. Why are you even cutting your hair?"
"It's gettin' long," he grumbles while holding out a piece. "Used to just buzz it off with Hydra."
Rosalie's jaw slacks. She can't imagine him with a buzz cut. His hair is so beautiful, not the prettiest cut, which makes a lot more sense now, but she's liked it since she first saw it. She places one hand on her hip and holds out the other, a smile on her lips.
"Let me do it, James," she says softly, and his frown smoothens out.
He hands over the scissors and sits down on top of the closed toilet lid. He still isn't happy about this, but she walks over and stands in front of him, holding out small pieces, just to get a sense of what she can do with it. It's not new to her, she's cut her own hair for the last two years, and she did the same when she was a teenager. She and Castor couldn't afford to go to a hairdresser.
