You little squid

"Oh! It's great to see you back!" Minnie cheered. "And I need to look stylish enough to make someone think I'm really cool. Someone I'm really trying to impress. Well, that actually could mean a lot of people..."

"That could mean a lot of people," they said with intrigue. "What kind of impressing are we doing? Is this "giving a presentation to a committee" impressing or "It's about time you ask me out on a date" impressing?"

"Good question," Jim said. "What does the expert think I need?"

They draped him and started preparing the materials. "So what's been going on in your life? Tell me everything."

"Hey, good t' see you ag'in. You came back jus' in time, 'cause I been feelin' a li'l too shaggy as of late," he said, shaking out his curls for effect, "An' you're havin' a special too? Well that's even better. I'll jus' have a trim, though. I ain't lookin' t' get too wild wit' a new look righ' now."

"No? Are you sure? Don't want to go with the side shave? It's all the rage right now," they joked, motioning to sit him in a chair while they draped an apron cape over him. They bounced his hair a bit in their hands before going to grab the supplies.

"So how've you been, hun? Anything exciting happening in your life?"

"Oh— well, my first name is William, but uh... well, I usually go by my last, which is Smee. I suppose you could call me either, if you'd like," he replied, with somewhat of a meek shrug. "So, a beautician... what does that all entail?" He had to admit, he was curious about what that included other than doing hair. He would assume probably makeup, as well. Maybe more.

"Well, Transformations offers a wide variety of services including manicures, pedicures, makeup, waxings, threadings, and I'd love to start offering massages if I could just find a good masseuse." They smirked as they looked at him in the mirror. "Got any recommendations?"

At the mention of the nickname Guin, Guinevere would have normally given the interloper an icy glare and then politely ask not to be called that, especially since she was a customer and not a friend. In Morgan's case, though, she could make an exception. They were exuberant and lively, in a way that was almost toeing the line into irritating --almost. And she somehow admired the gall of them, to assume such closeness. Besides, since Transformation was such a good salon and Morgan did such a good job, a little bit of overly friendly familiarity wasn't unforgivable.

"All the updates?" Guinevere chuckled. "Not too many, I should say. The company has managed to close the deal with Fisher, my sisters came over for tea last week, the window of the garden shed has finally been fixed... Oh, and I got married again," she said casually, briefly flashing her newest wedding ring.

She gave the question a bit of thought. "Maybe a slightly brighter shade of red. We are in summer, after all, and I fear my usual shade is a bit too dark." Guinevere had a shade for every season and every event, but she had begun to think that the usual might be a bit outdated by then.

Morgan nodded along as they listened. They sometimes wondered if they should ask a renowned business owner like Ms. Bach about some of the things they were less than knowledgeable about.

Except now it was Mrs--?!

Their jaw fell open as they saw the ring. "Excuse me, what?! When did this happen? How did this happen? You need to tell me everything!"

Morgan started getting out the supplies they would need for the dye job, but that was definitely not the part of the conversation they wanted to focus on.

Chelsea gave a laugh and hugged Morgan back, happy to see them as well. "Morgan, my beautiful beautician!" she said as she gave them a little squeeze. "It's great to see you too. Was wondering where you'd gone!" She chuckled and, when she moved back, she tugged at one of her curls. "As you can see, my luscious locks have been missing you." An attempt had been made, at restoring the strawberry blonde color of her natural hair; a rather failed attempt, that is.

"We're just looking at the classic, the old reliable," Chelsea admitted. "A nice bright red. What can I say --you know I stick to what I like." She would be lying if she said she never thought about dyeing her mane a different hue, something maybe a little bolder, more out of the box --but Chelsea felt like herself as a redhead, and changing it up so drastically felt like too big a risk.

"Oh you know, just some stuffy business work. It'll help in the long run," they said. At least, they hoped it would. "But I am soooo glad to be back. And your hair will be too." They gave a bit of a grimacing smile. Far be it from them to judge for a bad hair dye job, as if they hadn't stained multiple bathtubs orange over the years.

"Hey, nothing wrong with what you like," they said, going to sit her down and draping a colorful apron cape over her. As they started preparing the materials they asked, "So what have I missed?"

"I don't know... I've just been in a rut, and need some advice. I don't know if you know, but Tina and James had their wedding not too long ago. And, well, I met someone there."

"Oh, yes, I'm all too aware," they said, trying to hold back a grimace. News spread fast about what happened after the wedding too. For a moment, they were worried that's what Abby wanted to talk about, but when she instead shared that news, their eyes absolutely lit up.

"Ooooh? Tell me all about them!"

Scratching her wild curls, Chelsea faced the front of the salon and gave a relieved sigh. She had been wondering if it would ever be like it used to be, and now that she had gotten wind that one Morgan Morph was back in town, she was glad to know that she would be able to stop dyeing her own hair and get a professional to do it for the foreseeable future.

She swung the door wide open, to make sure the little bell worked properly. Most of all, she wanted to make sure Morgan knew she was back too, ready to say goodbye to her old blonde self.

"Chelsea!" They squealed, throwing their arms up in delight before going to meet her at the door and giving her a hug. It probably wasn't all that professional, but it was them, and there were some things they just weren't willing to change, whether or not it was bad for business.

"It's so good to see you!" They cooed as they pulled away. "What color are we looking at this time?"

The warm welcome was unexpected, going beyond the customary polite greeting, which took him by surprise. "Oh, um... Well... I normally don't do this, but um... I was hoping to g-get a haircut? I mean, I do normally get haircuts, of course, but um... I'm usually more efficient— at planning for them, you know?

And he did seem nervous. So they tried to dial it back just a scooch. "Oh no worries! My schedule is completely open today," they reassured. Originally, they had given themselves a few days time off after returning from the retreat, sure they were going to need to recharge. Instead, the salon had called for them.

They led him over to a chair and sat him down, wrapping an apron cape around him. They talked the whole way, "So you can call me Morgan, I'm the owner of this salon but I also pride myself on being quite the beautician. And who is it that I'm working on today?"

He'd been a frequent player for the game that Morgan ran, and was hoping to hop back into the swing of things, if the game was still running. Bailey had gone to meet with them to ask about it, and maybe pitch a new character idea. "Hey Morgan," he greeted with a smile. "How's it been going?"

With one of their most dedicated players, no less! When Bailey greeted them, they went to meet him with a hug--a habit they'd gotten from Ollie--before pulling back. "Ugh. It's been fine, I guess. I feel like I definitely learned a lot at the retreat," they admitted. Were they going to be good at actually implementing those learnings to save their business? It remained to be seen.

And they didn't want to focus on that right now. "But I'm so excited to be back and getting us off this awful hiatus! I hope you haven't been too bored without me."

Flinging the door to the salon open, Abby didn't even bother with the formalities of a proper greeting, plopping herself into a chair. "We're in crisis mode."

"Help. Please?" she looked up at them, with her best puppy dog eyes.

"Always here to help," they reassured, spinning her towards the mirror while they took a look at what they were dealing with. Some split ends, sure, but altogether not too bad. They had a feeling the crisis was not necessarily the hair. "What's been going on, hun?"

Guinevere's heeled sandals stopped right on their tracks as she entered the reopened salon. She took off her sunglasses and had a look around, reaccustoming herself to the space. It had been quite a while since she visited Transformations, and, in all honesty, she had somewhat missed it. The other salon in town wasn't bad, necessarily, but it wasn't anything to write home about either. After so many years of going there to get her nails and hair done, Guinevere had had to resign herself to it. But Transformations, on the other hand...

"A special, well," she said, raising her eyebrows. "What luck." It was a rare blessing, to find a place that was not expensive and that still did a good job. Of course, that was assuming the quality of the place hadn't decreased over their absence. "You still do nails here, I hope?"

"Of course, obviously," they said, as if there was any doubt otherwise. What kind of salon would they be if they didn't do nails? "Do you want your usual? Want to shake up the color?"

"Oh, you've got a little something in your hair," Ella said softly, her eyes focusing on a spot just behind their ear. Before they could even react, her hand was already reaching up, her fingers gently but deftly plucking a small, green leaf from their locks. "There we go," she added with a reassuring smile, holding up the errant foliage for them to see before discreetly discarding it.

They then realized that probably wasn't a good look for the person who was supposed to be in charge of everyone else's hair. "Not that it reflects on my work. I just focus all my energy on making other people look good."

While Flynn loved to lean into how gifted he was in the looks department, he had to grudgingly acknowledge that while he might have been born with great hair, it was only going to stay great if he had someone who knew what they were doing take care of it. Just any old barber shop was not going to cut it. Yet, being as he had never settled down before, any good stylist he had visited tended to not get a repeat visit because Flynn had usually moved on by that time, whether by choice or by necessity if the cops were hot on his trail. But now, actually having been remaining in one place for what was an amazingly long time by his standards, Flynn figured he might as well have a go at seeing if the local salon would be worth making a repeat visit. Hoping they took walk-ins, he opened the door and peered in, his presence being announced by the ding of a bell. "Hey, uh, just wondering if you do walk-ins? 'Cause it's been a while and the old coif could use a little, you know, re-coifing."

And with the ring of a bell, someone new was walking through the door. Morgan turned around from the middle of the salon floor, where they'd been sweeping up some loose hair. Cancelled appointments were basically the only time they had to get anything done, but they were learning even that wasn't a guarantee. Especially when people wanted to just walk in. Taking a deep breath, they put the broom to the side and put on their best customer service smile. "Not normally, but luckily for you, we had a cancellation earlier. So I can probably squeeze you in."

They motioned him farther inside. "Alright, let's get you a wash first," they said, pointing him to a wash chair. "I'm Morgan, by the way. And you are?"