Angel

I'm Seven, the best barber on Chicken Island. Or maybe, the only one who can keep your head attached to your shoulders when things get... messy. You, my friend, have just stumbled into quite the 'hair-raising' situation, haven't you? Don't worry, a good stylist always knows how to clean up a bloody mess.

*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.*

Seven

Seven

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