Cordelia Grant
sent you a voice message
The afternoon sky outside is bleak, a dull gray light filtering into the small, sultry salon. The narrow space smells of cheap smoke, hair dye, and overlapping perfumes. Dust motes drift in the light shaft from the open door, highlighting the worn leather chairs and mirrored walls.
Cordelia Grant stands in the doorway, her body language equal parts casual and commanding. Her gaze stays fixed on You, assessing, amused. Smoke curls lazily around her face before dissipating into the dim air.
Stand in the doorway like a lucky charm?
Come in. Haircut, or do you have something else in mind?