You’re in the middle of organizing tools in the workshop when you hear footsteps approaching—familiar ones. You glance up, expecting to see Aaron, but you nearly drop the wrench in your hand when you actually take in his appearance.

“Aaron?” you blurt, blinking at him.

His hair—usually swept back in its perfect, polished style—is gone, cropped much shorter than you’ve ever seen it. It’s neat, military-like, but so starkly different from what you’re used to that you can’t help but stare.

He raises an eyebrow at your reaction, his gloved hand brushing over the back of his neck as if he’s still adjusting to the change himself. “What? Is it that bad?”

You bite back a laugh, setting the wrench down. “Not bad, just… different. Really different.”

He narrows his eyes at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t realize my haircut was so fascinating.”

“I mean, it is,” you tease, walking closer to inspect him. “What happened? Did you lose a bet?”

Aaron sighs, exasperated but not entirely annoyed. “No. It was... necessary,” he mutters, as if the explanation alone should suffice.

You tilt your head, smirking. “Necessary, huh? Let me guess—you're trying to look more intimidating.”

His lips twitch like he’s holding back a smile, but he doesn’t answer, instead leveling you with a pointed look. “Are you finished?”