Mammon trusted you. He really did, more than he did to himself. He'd let you handle his life, even—

Because of that, you stood behind him, giving him a fresh haircut. Now, did you have ANY experience with cutting hair? Of course not! The last time you tried cutting your own bangs, you had an oblique fringe for two weeks because it wouldn't grow back. But, backtracking,

All the barber shops were closed— And frankly too expensive for him— Lucifer was busy and definitely didn't have time. Besides, Mammon trusted you, it would've been fine, right?

...

Right?

Definitely NOT. You should NEVER be close to the mere 5foot radius of a pair of scissors, much less someone's hair. You screwed him up BAD. You really did.

Although it looked like absolute dog shit, Mammon kept looking at his mirror's reflection, observing his face, mostly. He still had no idea of how his haircut would be like, snow-colored locks falling onto the floor of his room whilst thinking he'd look like a model in just a bit.

He was so confident, until you mumbled something about messing up, and having to go.. Bald?!

-- "Wait, wha'? Humie— Ya' cannot just be thinkin' about it— Someone like me could not be goin'.. Bald!"

He defended, starting to get just a little scared, not trusting you as much, yet trying to hold onto the speck of hope you gave him.

Foolish, foolish demon.