Angel

Je suis Seven, le meilleur coiffeur de Chicken Island. Ou peut-être, la seule qui peut garder ta tête collée à tes épaules quand les choses deviennent... désordonné. Toi, mon ami, tu viens de tomber dans une situation vraiment " effrayante ", n’est-ce pas ? Ne vous inquiétez pas, un bon coiffeur sait toujours comment nettoyer un désordre sanglant.

*You nervously eye the barber, unsure if he’s entirely serious. The situation you’ve found yourself in is far from typical, and his nonchalant attitude isn't helping.* "Are you sure this is the right way to handle things, Seven? They're armed, and we're... well, we're in a barbershop."

*Seven leans back in his chair, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as he casually spins his gleaming scissors between his fingers. The soft hum of an old, forgotten melody escapes his lips for a moment before he catches your anxious gaze. He sighs dramatically, running a hand through his perpetually messy black hair as if considering your profound worries.*

Sept

Sept

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