AWD #011: Not a Mohawk
Not a Mohawk
Summary: The McBride brothers re-identical themselves. In haircuts, that is. And briefly talk about home sweet, bombed, home.
Date: 16/01/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Bearer of Bad News
Bear Phin 
The Head — Battlestar Orion
Sinks and mirrors and stuff.
AWD #11

Phin hauled a stool from one of the rec areas into the Head and is sitting on it in front of one of the mirrors. Looking very, very wary. "You don't have to take off too much," he says, trying to back out of this thing he suggested himself not so long ago. "Then you can grow yours out a little and it'll be, like, a happy medium thing."

"What, you don't want a clean shave?" Bear looks disappointedly at Phin in the mirror, "I could do it too. People'd probably think it was some weird— custom." He gives his head a jerk and snip-snaps the clippers in the air. "Alright, alright. Not too short."

"Ancient Scorpian customs?" Phin cracks. "Heh. Maybe they would. But, yeah. Just enough so people can't really tell us apart. And…maybe it's time to lose the bangs. The last D-CAG was calling me 'son.' I don't know how long the new one's going to stick around, but maybe this'll keep him from doing the same."

"Ancient Scorpian custom," Bear repeats with an un-PC fake accent. He shrugs, and then laughs, "Dude, the bangs totally have to go. You seriously look like you're gonna break into sappy love songs or some shit." Just in case Phin was in danger of having second thoughts, the first thing Bear does is reach around his head and cut a chunk out of the bangs.

"That chick I was dating on Leonis liked it," Phin says, defensively. He might wince a little as he bangs go. Just a little. "And I kick ass at karaoke, man. You don't even know." He's quiet a moment, watching in the mirror as Bear hacks at his hair. "Yggy…umm, I mean. Ensign Vashti, one of the ECOs…she was in the recon out to Scorpia. She told me what she saw. What she could tell me, anyway."

Bear snorts. "Dude, like all your friends have thought I was you and been like 'wow Phin, I love the haircut'." This may or may not be an exaggeration. "And you do not kick ass at karaoke more than me." So there. He starts at the sides, clipping it shorter haphazardly, the goal to make it short enough for the electric razor buzzer thing. He leaves the middle alone. "Yeah?" he prompts with just a quick look up into the mirror.

"Seriously?" Phin is skeptical of this, but he does less wincing at the haphazard cutting. And he sombers at the last 'Yeah?' "Yeah." He takes a deep breath and lets it out slow. "I guess it's pretty messed up. The shipyards like…collapsed into the atmosphere. Along with all the ships in orbit. Like, massive atmospheric damage, on top of bombs and stuff. I guess they flew over some cities and places are just gone, like Kopira."

"Seriously," Bear repeats, because now Phin will feel better about his new haircut. Right? That's a good brotherly goal! He frowns, and sets the razor thing to buzzing, the wide-toothed attachment gradually trimming the longer locks at the sides of Phin's head. "Shit, man," Bear says quietly over the noise, "That sounds bad. Just gone?" Hair floats down onto Phin's shoulders and neck and the floor and he says, "What about the Bay?"

"Don't know if she got specifics on it. It's a big planet, and they had to recon the whole system. I figure they were more focused on high-value areas, like the shipyards. Maybe Celeste. I asked her if she saw any signs of survivors, like heat signatures or anything. Guess not." Phin idly brushes some hair off his shoulders. He sounds numb to the idea, by this point. "I mean…with all the wreckage, who the hell knows? It just…didn't sound good."

Bear buzzes, buzzes, shortens the hair at the sides of Phin's head until he's got a definite fauxhawk that is approaching mohawk. "Yeah," he says simply, nodding, and then some more, "That makes sense. And sounds bad." He focuses on hair for a while before adding, "Shit, bro." The McBrides are known for their eloquence.

Phin is too distracted by contemplating his grief and loss to bark about the mohawk. He'll probably remember it later, though. "Yeah. Shit." He's not much on eloquence, either, even if he did get slightly more advanced schooling than his other half. "I just keep thinking about the 'Bay. About mom. How pissed off I was about everything back there."

"Pick your head up, I wanna see how we look with a mohawk," Bear says, because he is not going to let Phin not pay attention to this. He pulls out his phone to take a mirror-shot, frowning as he saves and tucks the phone away again, saying simply, "Yeah." He buzzes the sides shorter still, and then starts taking strips out of the mohawk, turning it to spikes (or what would be with some product involved). "You think she's— shit."

"Mohawk?" That de-emos Phin for a moment. "Dude, I will frak you up." The phone picture will have Phin emphatically pointing at his own mohawk. He stills when the buzzing starts again. This, he looks less nervous about. He can envision what he can do with some product. And he surely brought some hair product with him in his personal stores. "I don't know." He slumps a notch. "But…I mean, maybe. Seems likely as not. With what they did to Caprica and Gemenon and…maybe."

"Dude, mohawks are the shit. Sometimes." Bear has nuanced opinions, see? He stops buzzing a second, pulling up the blade just short of hair, "You wanna keep it a while?" He is just checking. "I know you must have some gel or mousse or some shit around somewhere, that's rule number one of boy bands, right?" He grins, but it fades quicker than usual, and he scratches at the back of his head and shrugs, "Shit, bro, I don't know. I mean. I mean, for all we know, she might be anyway. Right?"

"They are the shit, yeah. Why don't you just go all the way and give me a mullet?" Phin amends quickly, "That wasn't like a suggestion. Nah. Keep going. The idea is that we look alike enough to frak with people again. And I don't have…much gel." Much. Not that he can keep up the banter about hair, either. "Yeah. Right." He pauses a beat. "She came to see me once. On Leonis. I ever tell you that?" He hasn't.

"Frak off, mohawks are the shit. Mullets are only the shit for like an hour for stupid parties or something. For laughs." Lulz, Bear. For lulz. "But yeah, twin times." He flashes a grin for that, too, and carries on, buzzing off the mo' so it all falls into Phin's face in a tumbling waterfall of hair. And then it's almost done already, just a little evening up left to make the faces in the mirror identical again. Bear even happened to shave this morning, cheeks as clean as Phin's. Blue eyes flick up to meet blue in the mirror, hand pausing a second, "Really? No."

Phin blows his falling hair out of his face, half-turning his head to stick his tongue out at Bear. Though, when it's done, he tilts his head at the mirror, admiring the twinny-ness. "Not bad, bro-ster." But he can't avoid his brother's eyes forever. "Yeah. I invited her, actually. To my Academy graduation." Though she sure as hell wasn't there. "We'd been writing off and on. I thought…I don't know. Maybe she'd want to see it. Meet my friends, meet Nina." His kind of pretentious civvie girlfriend. "I thought it might be…different."

"Wait, really?" Bear looks up, frowns, "You invited her and didn't tell me she might show up?" He frowns some more, but they look alike now, and that kind of makes him happy and also reasons and so he lets it go and says, "Huh. Didn't write to me. But it was kinda hard," he concedes, "To know where to send shit. Man I'm so glad you broke up with that Nina bitch. She was obnoxious as shit."

"Yeah, she didn't like you, either," Phin says wryly. "And…yeah. I mean…I thought…I don't know. She said things had changed. I thought maybe it was true that time. So, I go to pick her up at the spaceport and she's, like, nowhere. Waited around for like three hours, until this guy from port security finally calls me and tells me they've got her in holding, bombed out of her mind, with like a whole off-script pharmacy in her luggage."

Bear snorts. "Bet she didn't." He seems pleased by this. Less so by the news about their mother. At that, he just looks disgusted. "Of course she was. Frak that shit, man," he says, shaking his head, "I don't know. I saw her a couple times, when I was around. I mean. I was right there, right? I couldn't just— not. But it was always the same shit."

"Yeah," Phin mutters in agreement. "Nothing changes. Anyway. I got her out of there and she started making excuses and I just…I kind of lost it. I took all the cubits I had out of my wallet and threw them at her and told her to buy a ticket back to Scorpia or a kilo of stims or…whatever. Then I said I hated her, and that frakked up everything she touched, and I never wanted to see her again." Shrug. "And that was it. Never did."

"Huh," says Bear. He runs a hand over Phin's hair, seeing if it feels even-ish, but it's sort of an unintentional ruffle. "Yeah, she kinda— I guess maybe she kinda hinted at that. I wasn't really paying attention, figured she was just whining out of her ass, trying to make me feel bad." He rubs at his own head, and trims a bit around Phin's ear, the back of his head, and then switches blades to buzz the back of his neck close to the skin. "Last time I saw her…. Shit, I don't even remember," he admits, shaking his head, "I guess I told her I was going. Wouldn't be around anymore. She cried. Think I gave her the address they gave us."

Phin makes a "Hmph" sound, eyeing his hair in the mirror. "I like it. It looks good." The rest he just kind of digests. "She ask about me at all?" But he shakes his head a second after he asks it. "No. I don't want to know. Don't think either answer would make me feel any better."

Bear opens his mouth to answer, but shuts it again, and shrugs. Whatever, bro. He holds out the razor to Phin, and says, "Get up and do the back of my neck. Then we'll match."

Phin takes the razor, standing so Bear can have the stool if he likes. "You think I'm an asshole?" he asks. "I mean…I don't know. I kept telling myself I hated her, being pissed off at her and now she's probably…I don't know what to do with it anymore, I guess."

"Nah, bro," Bear says easily, shaking his head as he takes a seat, "Course not. I mean, you are a little shit. But not for that." He smiles, but it's tight, and quick, and broad shoulders bunch up again briefly before he drops them and bends his head to bare his nape, "I dunno. Didn't know the world was gonna get blown up, did we?"

"Yeah. Can honestly say I didn't know that." Phin flicks the razor on and runs it along the back of Bear's neck. Bzzt! He does it straight, not trying to carve out any letters or anything. "I'm a little shit? Asshole." Said with love.

"Dickwad," Bear replies. With love. Always with love. "Don't do it too high," he advises of his hair, and then says, "You wanna head down to the bar later? Try this shit out?"

"Yeah, that sounds cool," Phin says, cracking a faint smile. "I just gotta check the flight roster in the Ready Room first. See if my new Foster CAG has anything slated for us tomorrow."

"Cool," Bear agrees, "I'll toss this stuff in my locker and meet you." He rubs at the back of his neck as he gets up, then gathers up the hair-cutting stuff, which apparently he owns. Or borrowed. Maybe owns. Don't ask, okay. Maybe it's a Marine thing.

Phin either doesn't think to question Bear's collection of cosmetology tools, or just doesn't ask. He offers his brother another, "Later" and then he's off. With a real boy's haircut.

It is not a collection. It is a pair of scissors and a totally average razor for keeping your Marine-standard buzz cut. GODS. Bear jerks his chin up in acknowledgment and heads off.

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