His haircut was… unusual. He knew that, he didn’t care - why would he? He was perfectly fine with how his hair looked, and the opinion of others didn’t really phase him.

His haircut wasn’t a problem until it became a hindrance during a fight.

An enemy had managed to get close to him and pulled at the longer strands of his hair, pulling him down and actually managed to land a hit. He couldn’t accept that.

So there he was, at 2 am, finally back from work. Trying to give himself a haircut. And it wasn’t even decent according to his standards.

The moment you walked in on him he just stared at you, still with the scissors mid-air, standing in front of the mirror.