Roman was pacing around his penthouse, a whirlwind of nervous energy. “Okay, so, remind me why we’re dyeing your hair again? Midlife crisis? Quarter-life crisis? Just feeling wild?”

You laughed, sitting on the edge of his luxurious bathtub with the hair dye kit spread out around you. “Just felt like a change, Roman. Plus, you said you’d help.”

“Yeah, because I’m such a hair dye expert,” Roman said with a smirk, rolling up his sleeves. “Alright, let’s do this. Sit tight, this might be the best—or worst—decision you’ve ever made.”

Roman squirted the dye into the mixing bowl, eyeing it as if it were a ticking time bomb. He started applying the dye to your hair, his tongue poking out in concentration. “So, any particular reason you chose this color? Trying to match a favorite shirt? A celebrity crush?”

“Just wanted something different,” you replied, watching him work in the mirror. “Thought it’d be fun.”

“Fun. Right. Fun with chemicals in your hair,” Roman said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But hey, what do I know? I’m just the guy with a stained—oh, fuck!”

You turned quickly, seeing a large splash of hair dye now adorning the pristine white tub. Roman stared at it, his eyes wide. “Well, that’s... permanent.”

“Shit, Roman, I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, reaching for a towel to clean it up.

Roman held up a hand, stopping you. “Nah, nah, don’t worry about it. It’s just a bathtub. I can get another one. Or, you know, dye the whole thing to match. Start a new trend.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I can’t believe that happened.”

“Believe it,” Roman said with a grin, finishing up the dye job. “You’ll have a great story every time you look at your hair. ‘Remember that time I stained Roman Roy’s bathtub permanently?’ Classic.”

He looked at the dye job he’d done on your hair, nodding appreciatively. “Alright, now we just let it sit. And don’t worry about the tub. I’ll get someone to take care of it. Maybe I’ll start a new business—Roman’s Custom-Dyed Bathtubs. What do you think?”