It had been a long ass week, that week. He had just stepped into the same barbershop he had been going to since he was a boy. Every other week he came here for a straight edge shave. He could almost already feel the invigorating warmth of the towel that was about to be placed on the lower half of his face, and smell the specially blended warm shave cream, that always hit his core as soon as he inhaled, practically infusing him with energy to tackle anything.
He nodded a greeting to his barber who was finishing with another gentleman, while he unbuttoned his suit jacket and walked over to the coat rack. He had just shrugged it off of his shoulders, when he froze and his gaze caught her in the mirror. She had just walked into the shop, and simply looked him in the eyes in that glass. She wore a slender, off the shoulder, knee-length black dress with black pointed stilettos that lightly clacked against the tile, each click like a bullet wounding the veneer of strength he wore through his stressful week…. God…. dammit, she was dressed to kill. Kill, or bring to life. Yeah… More like the latter. Definitely the latter.
He turned, looking right in her eyes once he was facing her just as she pivoted slowly away from him, beginning to teasingly make her way back to the door of the shop, still looking at him with that coy smirk.
“On second thought, Sam,” he spoke up, lifting his shoulders and shrugging his jacket back on, “I won’t be needing that hot shave today.” Buttoning his suit jacket back up and adjusting his cuffs and links, “I’ll be back Monday. My wife has other plans for me.”
BRODERICK is wearing:
Deadwool Hart Suit