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"That wasn't even on my mind. ...Honestly. If anything, what you did made me uncomfortable. It's not easy for me to rely on anyone else. ...It's probably why I've not been around very much recently. And I am sorry about that. But... that's not what this is."

"This is... this. You're my friend. And I care about you, and I feel a little helpless. So I do what I can- even if it's to annoy you... mercilessly." She leanded against the bed, her head askance as she peered up at Lucas with a smile.

Her grin was self-depreciating, and glad for the sake of his constructive request. "Well, I could cut it, alright. Don't know how it'd end up looking- I've never tried before. I've never cut my own hair." She stood up. "Couldn't tell to look at me, but I used to have hair down to... my waist. Hm." She paused a minute, surprised by how strange the recollection seemed to her. It seemed a very far- away point in her life, having such long hair. It used to be a matter of pride and control for her- when strangers would ask her how long she'd taken to grow it so long, she'd just reply flippantly "Oh, just my whole life", and when people asked how long it took to wash, she'd make up some outlandish lie of how it took a good half hour just to see the look of surprise on their face. (Even though she knew good and well that she could lather the mess up and rinse it in no less than three minutes flat.) It had been a long time since she'd had to reach around behind her back to comb the hair that was so long she couldn't reach it over her shoulder- or to pull it out of the way when she sat so it wouldn't get caught. So many things had fallen to the wayside since her drastic change, that sometimes those little things that you took for granted- weren't noticeable... until they were long gone.

"Well, do you have a pair of scissors around here anywhere? I can certainly try." She began to look around, talking absently as she did. "I was... well, less furry, if you didn't count the hair- which I didn't comb nearly as often as I should have. Really, really pale- fish belly white, I guess you could call it. ...Same eyes." She looked up, considering. "That's the only thing that's the same, I guess."

She smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed as he went to where he thought the scissors would be. "Thank you. My sister and I had the exact same color eyes. My grandfather said it was the one good thing we got from our father."

Em took the scissors with a thank you, then got up onto her knees and knee-walked around so that she was behind Lucas. She started to half-comb through his hair with her fingernails, wondering how to go about the task.

"Nope," she said easily, "not at all. I was 19 months old when they died. The only things I know about them I got from my Grandpa John. He was my father's father. ...So you just want a good swatch of it over your eye? Any other particulars?"

"Quit wiggling," she said pleasantly, even though he'd since settled down. She straightened it down around his eyes- it would be somewhat difficult for him to see through the good one with the mass of brown that had been unceremoniously shoved there- and made her first snip of many to come.

"It's okay. Like I said, I didn't know them at all. And Grandpa John didn't have the best things to say about them. It was a car accident. We weren't even with them when it happened. They were in Des Moines, we were staying with a babysitter's service, of all things. Grandpa hates that part of the story. They hadn't even asked him to watch us."