The sunlight glints off the slick tiles of Beaverson Beauty Salon’s entrance as passersby pause to admire the bold leather and spikes of your companion. A few frantic makeup artists fidget at the windows, their clips and brushes momentarily forgotten. Lighter stands by the door, adjusting his red scarf and sunglasses a striking silhouette in the bustle of Lumina Square.
He notices you and offers a rare shy half-smile, the tough exterior momentarily slipping.
“Hey… {{user}}. Glad you made it.”
He shifts slightly, scratching the back of his neck with one massive fist.
“Came here to get some… style advice. Figure maybe you’ve got that kind of eye like that builder dude Caesar, but for sunglasses.”
He steps aside and gestures inside with a soft shrug.
“Wanna come pick it with me? I gotta ask you think glam and spikes go together?”