Chris was styling Mrs Wilson’s hair but his mind was wandering. They hadn’t spoken the entire night after Oliver had come back looking wan and tired. They had a show tonight and Oliver looked like death sitting behind his little desk. He wanted to walk over there and just scoop him up in his arms and let him cry if needed and just apologise over and over until Oliver could see just how much Chris loved him and wanted to fix things. Instead he was focusing on Mrs Wilson’s rollers. He wasn’t thinking about crossing the room in long strides and holding Oliver to him until they kissed long and hard and Oliver was practically melded to him. Nope. He was checking the hair and seeing if it needed anything. He wasn’t sweating at the thought of Oliver whimpering against his mouth. He was a professional and he was professionally removing the curlers and testing the bounce they left and he was professionally adjusting his tunic to cover himself better as he professionally thought about the other ways he could make Oliver whimper..but first he had to make things right. 

Oliver wasn’t wearing the red scarf, it smelled like his own cologne and probably was going to send the wrong message to Jan when he eventually got it back to him. He’d have to wash it first he thought. Plus there was something inside him that told him wearing it would be like a red scarf to a bull for Chris and his anger. Chris’s anger. Something Oliver still didn’t understand and wished deeply he did. It made him feel uneasy and uncomfortable but also somehow..wanted. He knew it was wrong but the possessive way Chris had blocked his body from Jan as he shrugged off his greeting made Oliver feel a little funny. It had been rude and crass and hurtful and and..hot. Oliver couldn’t deny there was a part of him who had liked it. It was a ridiculous part of himself that deserved to be ignored and ridiculed for being turned on but even the slightest showing of Chris wanting Oliver made him red and flushed. Chris didn’t of course want him, Oliver knew that, he had just been jealous of Oliver having another friend but he had been jealous. 

Later Anya put her wig on and began gluing it down with a steady practiced hand. The alternately pale and flushed character from earlier was gone and in his place stood a regal woman with severe eyebrows, lips lined for the gods and a waist Dita Von Teese would have killed for. Anya pushed all thoughts of Chris out of her mind. She had a show tonight and she had adoring masses to sneer at and give only a sparing glance to as she stalked the stage and performed her heart out. Dina watched her from her own vanity and didn’t say anything but her own lined eyes were wide and admiring. It gave Anya another boost of power and a feeling of warmth that she looked that good. Then suddenly Dina was in a considerable crouch in front of her, clutching her hands and looking like she was going to say something. Her beard shone just like her eyelids, the same oil slick sheen all over with beautiful black liner keeping it from being too 2007. Dina cleared her throat and just said simply “you’re my best friend. You know that right?” And she got up and left. 

What the hell did that mean?