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Velvette could snap her fingers and put on one of her many, many wigs. Her power to digitize fabrics and synthetics that went into certain parts of fashion had always been a wonder to Valentino.
It was why her letting him style her hair was such an act of trust which Val knew never to take for granted.
It wasn’t something she would let anyone else she hung out with do to her. Val was fairly certain Vox only had the occasional “hair brushing” rights (something he wasn’t supposed to know about, as it would embarrass both Velvette and Vox, but of course he knew and didn’t care if they were embarrassed). Not even Velvette’s actual hair stylists could style Velvette’s wigs. They might create a style Velvette liked, but Velvette would put it on herself.
Velvette had many wigs. The ones which definitely felt stuck to her by her magic, but then there were others which actually felt rooted. Velvette having the ability to sink it into her scalp made as much sense to him as anything. Val had watched Vox do so many things to his own body over the years—of course what Velvette did to herself was as natural as breathing in Hell.
He liked her hair. All of her hair. Whether it was kinky, curly, straight, wavy, tight, loose… It was stuff he wished he had a chance to do when he was alive. But Val hadn’t had the chance to do things like hairstyling then.
Velvette didn’t even have her phone in her hands. It was on her lap, not far away at all, but it was always something when it wasn’t in her hands.
“Do you ever do massages that don’t end in sex?” Velvette asked.
“Heh. Yeah I do. Well, did. If someone couldn’t pay enough for me to actually sleep with them, but offered enough I didn’t want to do a completely hands off session? Massage.”
“That explains it.”
“Like how my fingers work?”
She laughed, reaching back to bat at him with a hand. “Shut up, you tosser.”
“By the way, what does that mean? Am I tossing something?”
“You know that’s a fucking insult. Who are you, Vox?”
“Don’t be silly. He doesn’t care about those things.”
They both laughed. Maybe they shouldn’t have, but it was Vox, and therefore it didn’t matter either way. It was Vox.
“But, like, I know what a wanker is. I know what wanking is.” Val pulled the plaits he had made tight and began braiding them together as well. “I don’t know what tossing is supposed to mean… unless it’s literal.”
“Same as wanking, actually.” Velvette grinned. “To toss off is like to jerk off.”
“…we’d better not tell Vox that one. He might remember it.”
They laughed again. Val fingers danced around the curls and he let little ringlets come out at Velvette’s nape and around the roots. In the end, he had two braids which he put as loops to frame Velvette’s favourite earrings.
He was certain Vox had gotten her these earrings. She’d had similar ones when he first met her, but he hadn’t seen those in a while. Velvette always wore these.
Val kissed the top of her head. “Done and done, chiquita.”
Velvette opened her eyes and yanked a mirror over. After all, she might let Val, and no one else, style her hair, but it did not stop her from being critical of it. She turned her head from side to side. Val grabbed a different mirror to reflect the back of her head.
Her smile returned. “Beautiful, luv.”
“You always are, babydoll.”