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Carnelian yawned.

By all accounts, it was sometime in the evening, and he’d spent a good few hours on “shift”, working to help beautify some of the senshi under the Negaverse guidance. The care and maintenance of their incredibly lengthy hair required a professional, and it was a service Carnelian was more than happy to provide. One of the Captains had even brought in a salon chair or two to keep the place looking as inviting as possible. The incredibly darkness of Negaspace could be oppressive and sometimes all it took was a few moments of personal attention to help ease someone’s troubled mind.

Besides, hairdressers were practically therapists for some people anyway. The redhead didn’t mind. He’d rather listen to someone’s sordid love story than run around in Destiny City looking for the next way to fulfill his quota. Hair was something he was passionate about. Pulling starseeds? Not so much. Not unless ordered to, anyway.

But it was a slow evening today, only one or two corrupted senshi had stopped by for pinning and detangling. Newbies were especially prone to accidents, being unacquainted with the ridiculously massive amount of hair they seemed to grow every time they powered one. One poor girl tripped on her long locks and had gotten bits of her fuku tangled in it. A complete emotional wreck, she was directed to Carnelian’s chair for detangling before patrol. About an hour later, she’d learned how to pin her hair back enough to keep it from becoming a serial tripping hazard.

That was half an hour ago, and Carnelian still had a few more on his shift. Sighing, the senshi leaned back in his salon chair and slowly spun in a circle.

Oops, goof-off time was blown when the higher-ups come calling.

Carnelian knew his place as a second-class citizen among the Negaverse agents. Despite technically being of a rank parallel to that of a Captain, senshi did not possess the same rights and privileges of an agent of the same rank. The redhead didn't mind too terribly much - aspiring to leadership was too much work and too much bureaucracy. Still, he wasn't about to be flippant or rude to a Captain he'd never met.

Quickly clicking his heels and standing at attention, Carnelian gave the Captain a short bow. "Good evening, Captain. Don't worry, it's all approved of. It's just a few spare chairs from the salon where I work, and a station or two that needed to be replaced. All free, of course. The Negaverse didn't have to pay anything. Is there something I could help you with? Oh, my apologies. My name is Carnelian. I don't believe we've met before?"

She certainly was lovely, and Carnelian had an eye for fashion. Some agent's outfits were preposterous at best, and the redhead had an appreciation for elegant attire. She carried herself well and it showed.

He chuckled in return, dusting the velvet of his outfit with the back of his hand. "I'm sure you're well aware of how we're usually treated, so please forgive my assumptions, Captain Tantalite." The corrupted senshi gestured to the open salon chair, offering the Captain a seat if she wanted it. "You'd be surprised how much help a new senshi needs when he or she spouts a few extra feet of hair every time they powered up for a patrol. I help teach them care and maintenance and one poor girl, a little wispy blonde thing, was crying terribly when she tripped over her own hair."

She was terribly young, too, and Carnelian wondered if the person responsible for her had considered that. "But I also work for agents such as yourself. There are a few people who come here regularly for cuts and color. It's free, by the way. The least I could do for the organization, and all."

Part of him was being facetious, but it was mostly true. Offering his services for free certainly endeared him to the Generals and their Sovereigns. He might have been a brown-noser on occasion, but he was smart about it. "Is there anything I can do for you, Captain? You look like you take good care of yourself."

"But Captain," said he, mustering up the best puppy dog eyes he possibly could, with a little bit of quivering lip thrown in for good measure, "if the transformation dimension gave all the Negaverse senshi tips for all that hair, I'd be out of a job!" And would likely have to go patrolling more often, but that was beside the point.

Carnelian chuckled shortly after. "You play for the Symphony? I've attended a few shows myself. I had no idea. What instrument do you play? Honestly, I wouldn't mind having our own private symphony, but I imagine having to keep track of all those agents." Not that he could really sympathize. Negaverse senshi were among those the higher-ups were keeping tabs on, files for, assignments for. Carnelian had nothing to keep track of himself other than ensuring his quotas were met.

"Do you have anyone beneath you, Captain? If you don't mind me asking, of course. I don't mean to pry." And if Tantalite wasn't going to take the salon chair seat offered, Carnelian would continue to lounge in it. It's been a difficult week.

The corrupted senshi shrugged languidly. "One would think. I was one of the lucky ones - I already knew how to take care of many feet of hair, even on myself. Some poor girls start out with a short A-Line and all of a sudden have to deal with the extreme weight in addition to the tripping hazard." How that all worked out, Carnelian had no earthly idea. If the decision to have floor-length hair was dictated by an actual person, Carnelian had half a mind to find them and write a very strongly-worded letter about neck pain and migraine headaches.

"Only second seat? That's a shame. I'm sure your playing is deserving of the first chair. Would you like the Negaverse to look into that, or would that cross the streams too much?" There wasn't any animosity or doubt in Carnelian's voice, just pure problem-solving. If he were a violinist who believed his skill deserved a higher chair, the temptation to have the Negaverse solve the problem would be great.

But Tantalite? She seemed too classy for that.

She understood, though, wanting but not having a clear-cut path to the end. Carnelian wanted more power simply for powers' sake, and the ability to gain just a little respect within the organization. More power meant more protection and more freedom. "The same boat, you and I. I still have to operate under a General, but I might have found one who seems... tolerant enough. So many openly dislike someone like me simply on principle. Am I not pretty enough to like, Captain?"

"A true artist," he started, hand on his chest in a somewhat melodramatic way, "who wants to secure her position through virtuous means. I can respect that, Captain. What is it they say? May the odds be ever in your favor? I think that's it. Regardless, you'll have to tell me when your next showing is! I'd love to attend, show my support."

Carnelian idly toyed with the silky end of his crimson braid while slowly rocking side-to-side on the salon chair. "I'm not sure exactly why the Negaverse, on average, seems to dislike people like me. Am I not working hard enough? I mean, certainly, I could be trying harder but I prefer to sweat off the battlefield? Oh!" The redhead chuckled and covered his mouth with the back of his hand. "Where are my manners? Apologies, Captain."

At least he cleaned up well, and knew his manners in most social circumstances.

"I'm not sure whether Jet will find me acceptable or not. Obsidian is outright unacceptable, though... keep that between you and I. I was under General-King Zinkenite, but he's been so wrapped up in his own research that many who were under his command are left aimless. Not that I think he's unfit for his position - certainly not. He must be doing some incredible work for the Negaverse to disappear for weeks at a time without any communication to his lower ranks. I can't complain, though. At least my pretty face isn't beaten to a pulp by another particular redhead."

Carnelian gave Tantalite a silent nod. He could appreciate someone enjoying their position because they earned it, rather than coming into it through family connections, money or personal favors. Tantalite had real, raw talent, and that was something the redhead could appreciate no matter the subject. But classical music? He had an ear for that. It was elegant, refined, timeless.

She didn't quite get the reference, and that was fine. Just shooting the breeze was satisfactory enough. "I believe it's from a book, that was later turned into a movie. I hear the younger kids in the salon say it from time to time. You know, when they're not nose-deep in their phones. It certainly makes haircuts a great deal more difficult." Not that Carnelian wasn't guilty of looking at his phone too often - who wasn't? Being a service provider though, he was acutely aware of how annoying that could be.

"Maybe I'll freelance until you become a General, Tantalite." he mused, pausing to idly examine his fingernails. While not perfectly manicured, Carnelian certainly didn't look like he performed too much manual labor. "My options at the moment aren't the greatest. Either you become the minion of a sadistic lunatic, or you find someone more reasonable who disappears when research becomes more important. Not that I mind the latter too terribly much. I'd prefer it if maniac and scientist were my only options."

"I like you, Captain Tantalite."

It wasn't often that Carnelian could find someone he would consider a peer, someone with some similar interests, possibly in the same place in life. Many of of the recruits in the Negaverse were the younger crowd, students, children. It was hard to relate to them, especially as someone relegated to a sidekick sort of role. Carnelian didn't mind too terribly much, especially since front line troops ended up with the most injuries.

The Captain and Corrupt ended up in jovial conversation, likely longer than Tantalite initially thought. Perhaps a friendship was blossoming, two Negaverse agents finding more similarities between them than with the younger lot. One could always use a friend to discuss politics over glasses of fine wine.