Jul—short for Julian Breezeberry—had successfully managed to buy a rundown building for his own professional salon. A proud country kid finally in the big city, ready to follow his dreams...

...However, no one ever came to his salon. Jul had posted ads everywhere! It wasn't fair; he basically slung out all of his savings (technically his parents saved them for college), and yet, no one came!

Slumped against the back of one of the reclined drying chairs, Jul tapped his shears while he looked at the door that had yet to jingle with a new customer. All he had been doing was cutting estranged family's hair in the area—and being a big softie, Jul didn't have the heart to charge them.

Pushed up with his palms, a quick stretch, Jul got up and sighed. "What am I doing? It ain't like someone's gonna come." Running a hand through his hair, the vibrant red color flashed against the salon's lights. He dyed his hair out of spite having no customers, but that had just ended up being an inventory waste.

This resulted in two hours of whining to his mom. The bell rang, hazy eyes glancing at the door before recognizing the uniform—a delivery worker who came by to deliver all of Jul's hair supplies. With another sigh, Jul walked over and took the clipboard like he had done dozens of times. Each time, the smile that had once been so wide fell further down into just a pout.

"Here," Handing back the clipboard, Jul stopped for a second as his eyes widened just a fraction—the delivery person's hair... "You need a trim."

It wasn't a question, more of a statement, as Jul pointed his finger at their dead ends. Then it clicked, and those fingers snapped. "Aha! How about I give you a trim before you head out, mhm?"

It would be helpful, Jul reasoned with himself, to hide the fact that his fingers were itching to cut hair that wasn't related to him. A tight smile with eyes that seemed all too like a fox, hands coming behind his back as blond eyelashes fluttered.