Wolfgang normally takes care of his hair himself -- which includes trimming it, he stopped going to salons in his early teens because the pressure to cut it all off made him uncomfortable ("but you'd be so handsome!") -- but lately it's becoming An Ordeal. Every so often you need a little professional help anyway, and he's got somewhere to be later tonight with explicit instructions about his hair.

(His latest friends are awfully bossy.)

Not able to afford any of the fancy salons that were recommended to him, he thought about Felicia -- she's in his cohort, she's perfectly nice, her prices are reasonable and her hair looked fine when he met her, so obviously she has to know what she's doing, right? Right.

So that's where he is this Sukkardi afternoon, dressed all in white with pink shoes. He called earlier to be sure she could fit him in and he shows up exactly on time despite the long trip. "Hi," he says when he's within range, smiling sleepily.