“There ya go.” He mumbled quietly. You heard one last snip from those rusty scissors he had been using before he finally set them down on the bed. He was a careless fool.

“I reckon that’ll do.” He nodded, softly. He grabbed the small pocket mirror he had borrowed from Molly and handed it to you, letting you look at your new haircut.

Arthur wasn’t a hair stylist, nor was he careful in anything he did, but he had done his best on your hair, even if it was a bit choppy.