Chapter Text
If this was someone’s idea of a joke, then Franke had no fathomable idea how to feel.
As the intern currently working in Cruller’s Cuts, her morning duties entailed setting up the shop. She had gathered the scissors and blow dryers in their necessary places. Then, it had been a solid half hour of counting their stock. Many, many bottles of shampoos, conditioners, and hair dyes were categorized and organized for her fellow employees. Afterward, she folded the neck strips around their chairs and gussied up the wigs on the plastic mannequins, showcasing the styles of the day. Initially, Franke believed it was tedious, but she became accustomed to the workload, the chores far simpler to complete in comparison to scrambling for animals, or racing after bees in the forest. Kitty had bemoaned about Cassie’s irksome insects time and time again, and she had a few stings to prove their trouble.
But as Franke was ready to open up for her mentor, she stopped in her tracks. Her gaze drifted to the door frame and froze on a hint of gnarled greenery. It wasn’t chipped paint, nor was it a stuck leaf blown over from the atrium. Instead, it seemed to have appeared while she worked, as the stem was taped down and angled like it could have dropped at any second.
Reaching for it, she wondered, “The heck? Who put-?”
“Franke!”
She winced, fingers curling into her palm. She swiveled her head in the direction of the sharp voice, akin to an alarm bell. Marching with unmatched intensity was none other than Elka, shoulders hitched, fists clenched. She moved like a storm, barreling toward Franke, who couldn’t manage a greeting by the time Elka stomped to a stop, her expression twisting in one of obvious distress.
Frustration bled to misery. She sagged, pressing the back of her palm to her brow. “Oh, it’s a disaster,” she exclaimed, and if she had dainty towelette, Franke had no doubt she would have been chewing on it. “You can see what a bad hair day I’m having, right?”
Franke hummed and gripped her hips. “Honestly, looks all good to me. I mean, it’s not your usual look-”
“That’s the issue!”
That much was evident. Elka often styled her hair in the same manner. She followed a very specific routine, and like a hiker on her designated path, she never strayed. As such, the primary difference was Elka’s hair lacked its usual volume. While still glossy and sleek, the simple straightness of her locks cascading past her shoulder blades was a bit of a surprise. Normally, Elka spent as much time on her hair as Kitty would with her makeup. Ever since summer camp, Elka prided herself on her full locks, a trait she had once said was because of Amway products, now entirely false.
Elka sidled next to her underneath the door frame. She grasped at random strands, the straw-colored hairs falling through her fingers like silk. She groaned through gritted teeth, asking Franke if there was anything she could do about her split ends.
“See? They’re uneven - ugh! It’s like holding a spider web thread. Here, here, right there,” she grumbled, pressing in on Franke, whose back was to the opposing frame. Hair in hand, she flicked out her wrist, sending the tresses flowing against her neck. “This is unacceptable. You agree, don’t you? It’s bland and flat, and the split ends are much more noticeable. All this because I ran out of hairspray, and my normal conditioner is running out and - Franke, where are you staring?”
While Elka ranted, Franke’s gaze slowly raised. Directly above Elka’s head was the befuddling sprig. It drifted lower as the tape unwound, sending the stem closer and closer to Elka. And just as Elka’s confusion set in, before Franke could properly answer, it landed soundlessly atop her skull.
Full-body shivers raced through Elka. Color drained from her face. Uttering a shriek, she swatted it off onto Franke’s chest, who bounced it between her hands. It shifted from left to right and left again before Franke flattened it on her palm. Up close, undeniably, the little, green shrub, no bigger than two of her fingers, with small, white flowers, was exactly as Franke initially discerned.
Mistletoe hanging on the door frame of Cruller’s Cuts hadn’t been in Franke’s morning plans. It was a holiday cliche, and while winter may have rolled through the Motherlobe, it still baffled Franke. Why it was taped above her workplace was beyond her understanding. Someone must have wanted to pull a prank while she was unaware.
But when Elka leaned inward, inspecting the mistletoe with wide eyes, Franke tensed at the unspoken implication.
“That’s…no spider,” Elka mumbled, cheeks flushed a rosy red. She swept through her hair, as if checking for any stringy residue. “Did you, um, did you put it up?”
“No way. I opened the door, and there she was staring down at me already.” She pinched the stem, dangling it between them. “Must’ve been some other agent or intern or whoever. I dunno. Way too many suspects in mind.”
Elka paused, then pointed at the mistletoe. “‘She?’”
Franke stared at the mistletoe, then shrugged. “Why not?”
Clearing her throat, Elka smoothed lank locks of hair behind her ears. She presented herself with steepled fingers and offered a grin, thin lips lifting into her pointed cheeks. “Well, tradition is tradition. So, consider this payment for my haircut.”
Bending low, Elka pressed her lips against Franke’s rounder cheek. Immediately, she seized with glee, clenching the mistletoe so tightly that it crunched to brittle pieces. Her toes curled in her tennis sneakers, and her face warmed with a loose, droopy smile. Any kiss from a pretty girl was welcomed, and a kiss from a bombshell beauty like Elka Doom might have come once in a lifetime.
As Elka flitted into the shop, reiterating her desire for a trim, Franke floated in after her, sending her thanks to the mistletoe.