Zephyr Breeze leaned on a cushioned chair, stared into a mirror surrounded by a few dozen glam lightbulbs, and watched as his reflection was kicked in the face by a white rabbit with an inverse mohawk.

Only after the pain settled did the stallion remember how mirrors worked, at which point he slapped himself in the face for being an idiot.

This did not improve his mood, nor the comfort of his face. “Come on, Angel, I swear I didn’t mean to—” Biff went Zephyr’s face “Ow!”

In keeping with his reputation, rather than his name, Angel delivered a second blow to the pegasus.

“I swear, the chewing gum wasn’t coming out, and—” Whap “Ow, please stop!” Crunch “That really hurts! And I’m trying to get cleaned up! I don’t want to look bad in front of—” Onomatopoeia “Ow! ”

“Eet eez a rabbit. How bad can eet really hurt?”

The assault momentarily halted as the distinctly accented voice pierced the dressing room, giving Zephyr Breeze a chance to sigh. “...Photo Finish.” Brushing off the vinyl-cushioned seat with a wing, the hairdresser gestured for his newest employer to make herself comfortable. “What can I do for you today, Miss Finish?”

“Mizzzz,” she answered, her accent adding enough redundant consonants that Zephyr Breeze briefly wondered if she had fallen asleep mid-sentence. With a bit of a squint, he adjusted his mind to her peculiar manner of speech. “I vould like a trim. Gentle, ze classic style.”

“Of course, Mz Finish. Though I’d be glad to do something new if you would like—”

“Nein! My style is immortal! It is ze magicks made mane! It must only be maintained. Change is for ze models. Now tell me, Brief,”

“Breeze,” the pony in question corrected under his breath.

“How did you come to be under attack by such an adorable little creature?”

“Angel?” Breeze spared a glance at his sister’s… pet? Confidant? Slaver? Regardless of his true role, the diabolical bunny donned a smile and visibly manifested a halo. “Well, he’s my sister’s. Fluttershy.”

“Flooterzhy?” Even Breeze’s mental adjustment couldn’t fix that one. “Vhy, she vas my best model ever! You must get her back to me!”

“But she—”

“You must! You must!”

Breeze sighed again. “Look, I’ll ask her next time I see her, but that’s all I can promise. Even a pony as smooth as me can’t get her to do something she doesn’t want. Anyway, Shy’s up in Canterlot talking to a lawyer about this whole animal sanctuary thing she’s got going on down in Ponyville. It’s a nice little place, got a great vibe going, just a chill hangout. But thing is, she’s always so worried, my little sis. Constantly stressing; you should see her shoulders knot up.”

“I haff,” Finish replied. “I soothed her by reminding her about how many ponies vould be staring at her on stage, judging silently her every step.”

“You said that to Shy?”

“I say it to all of ze models.”

“Huh. I guess I’ll have to try that next time she’s freaking out.” Angel held a paw in front of his face and chuckled, unacknowledged by the two ponies in the room. “Well, she’s all worried cause the animal sanctuary is this whole huge big deal I guess, even though it’s really just a space for, like, being calm and healing, and the animals don’t really do anything. Anyway, ‘Shy’s worried that if something happens to her, all that responsibility is gonna fall on our parents.”

“She is so caring. Ah, yes, ze best model.” Photo leaned back. “Ze truly caring models, zey are easier to put up with. Und they look more honest when you do charity shoots. Simply ze best.”

“Right…” Breeze’s shears went snicker-snack at the base of Photo’s perfect bob-cut as he continued. “So she decided it would be a good idea if she got a will, so if anything happened to her, I could take care of the animals. Which is pretty much a cool idea to me, even though I don’t want anything to happen to sis. I mean, a job of just hanging by a chill pond all day? That’s what I’m talking about.”

“I do not like ze animals,” Photo replied. “Too little taste for fashion. Und zhey do not like ze flash photography!” Accompanying the sudden proclamation, Photo spun in her seat, thrusting a hoof up. Zephyr lunged back, only narrowly keeping his shears from removing the better part of her bangs.

Angel took that moment to hop in front of the dressing room mirror and hold up two fingers on a paw, as if posing for a selfie. Photo Finish smiled. “Zis rabbit is good though. I can see why Flooterzhy likes him.”

Angel stuck out his tongue at Breeze.

“Right… well, anyway, she didn’t want to take Angel up to Canterlot where it’s all busy and urban, so she left him with me. And he kinda got some chewing gum in his coat, so I had to get it out.”

“Oh, so zat is vat has happened to his little head? How horrible.”

“I ordered him something to wear until it grows back,” Breeze explained. “Anyway, I’m sorry about the mess in here. I figured I would just go to my lawyer and have him give ‘Shy all my stuff if something happens to me. Only fair, right?”

“Vat have you even got as an estate, Bereave?”

“Breeze,” the stallion corrected hopelessly. “And I’ve got this great manestyling set. I mean, look at this comb!” The article in question left Photo’s mane, held in front of her face by an aquamarine wing. “Great, right?”

Photo briefly lowered her tinted glasses, and then restored them quickly when the sheer volume of rhinestones declared war against her retinas. “Zat is… not ze magicks. I assume zey are expensive zen?”

“No, they’re actually what I got for free from school. But I did all the decorations myself! They were just boring plastic before, and now look at them! Maybe my best work, and I get to actually use them every day instead of just keeping them in dad’s shack.”

“...right.” Photo leaned back in her chair. “Finish ze mane, please.”

After a few more moments of work, the last slight maintenance on Photo’s ‘immortal’ hairdo was finished, and the fashion designer rose to her hooves.

“Zank you, Bleak.”

“Breeze.”

“Ja, zat is vhat I said. Und now… I go.” In a puff of visible smoke and a blur of motion, the mare lunged for the door out of the dressing room, and hauled it open. This effort led to her smacking her face against another pony’s skull. The collision made even Angel wince, which is how you know it wasn’t the funny kind of injury. “Vhat are you doing, ztanding there?”

The gray, wall-eyed mare said nothing in response to the particularly egregious instance of Photo’s accent, but instead answered with a smile and a very small package extended between two hooves toward designer. The cardboard was slightly crumpled, but otherwise appeared fine for its wear. Photo Finish took the box and quickly ripped it open with her teeth, before looking at what was inside and smiling. “Ah!”

“Hmm?”

She held up a white powdered wig, sized for a rabbit. “Here here, Herr Hair. Your heir’s hare’s hair is here, you hear?”