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Is that dry grass or your hair?
Sep. 25th, 2021 04:47 pmFor 101 Ways to say I love you 22: "Give me a brush. I'll fix your hair for you." - Rekker/Bjorn
Rekker was sitting in the dressing room talking to Vars when the pouncy Swede walked in and gave him a snotty and sour look. The Brit rolled his eyes, what else could he do if the bastard wouldn't stop being a little bitch.
Though he talked to Vars his eyes were fixed on all the crap Bjorn put in his hair. It must be crisp, suffocated and brittle, a miracle It hadn't fallen out yet.
"What are you staring at?"
Bjorn must have seen Rekker staring when he looked in the mirror. "Your hair is shit. You better stay away from Viktor or It might catch fire."
Vars snorted a laugh at the guitarists biting remark. He could see Viktor setting the Swede's hair alight if he mouthed off the same way he did to Rekker.
"This is how I like it."
Rekker sighed as the singer piled even more hair spray into his hair. He still didn't know how it stayed with all the bleach and product, glued in place by hairspray maybe.
"Your hair looks like fucking straw grass ready to burn." Rekker commented while he watched the Swede teasing the sprayed hair. "Bilxt head."
Vars stared at Rekker then snorted out a laugh that he couldn't hold back. The Norwegian loved a good insult and this Brit seemed to be a master of them.
"It's better than the nothing you do with yours gingerlocks."
Rekker set his beer down and scowled at the biligerant little bitch at the mirror. "Is that a challenge?"
Rekker watch Bjorn stop in the middle of spraying to stare at the Brit sitting across the room before he shrugged. "So what if it is?"
Vars glanced at the guitarist standing up from his seat. The Norwegian wanted to see what was about to go down. "FINE. I'll take care of your hair so you can shut your fucking mouth and eat those words, bitch."
Bjorn didn't even respond and Rekker felt like slapping him in the face. It was like the Swede kept ammunition for fighting when it wasn't even necessary.
Rekker was sitting in the dressing room talking to Vars when the pouncy Swede walked in and gave him a snotty and sour look. The Brit rolled his eyes, what else could he do if the bastard wouldn't stop being a little bitch.
Though he talked to Vars his eyes were fixed on all the crap Bjorn put in his hair. It must be crisp, suffocated and brittle, a miracle It hadn't fallen out yet.
"What are you staring at?"
Bjorn must have seen Rekker staring when he looked in the mirror. "Your hair is shit. You better stay away from Viktor or It might catch fire."
Vars snorted a laugh at the guitarists biting remark. He could see Viktor setting the Swede's hair alight if he mouthed off the same way he did to Rekker.
"This is how I like it."
Rekker sighed as the singer piled even more hair spray into his hair. He still didn't know how it stayed with all the bleach and product, glued in place by hairspray maybe.
"Your hair looks like fucking straw grass ready to burn." Rekker commented while he watched the Swede teasing the sprayed hair. "Bilxt head."
Vars stared at Rekker then snorted out a laugh that he couldn't hold back. The Norwegian loved a good insult and this Brit seemed to be a master of them.
"It's better than the nothing you do with yours gingerlocks."
Rekker set his beer down and scowled at the biligerant little bitch at the mirror. "Is that a challenge?"
Rekker watch Bjorn stop in the middle of spraying to stare at the Brit sitting across the room before he shrugged. "So what if it is?"
Vars glanced at the guitarist standing up from his seat. The Norwegian wanted to see what was about to go down. "FINE. I'll take care of your hair so you can shut your fucking mouth and eat those words, bitch."
Bjorn didn't even respond and Rekker felt like slapping him in the face. It was like the Swede kept ammunition for fighting when it wasn't even necessary.
