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It had to be done - it seems that in this case, the rumors that hair continues to grow after death are very true.

Either Baze got tired of listening to Chirrut huff about the untidiness of his hair, or Chirrut got tired of listening to Baze tease about how he'd soon be able to wear a ponytail, but in the end the result is the same. Chirrut is sitting cross-legged on a chair in the middle of the bar, with a towel wrapped around his shoulders, while Baze wields a wickedly sharp pair of scissors to bring the increasingly unruly (and currently decidedly damp) mop of hair on Chirrut's head under control once more. Chirrut keeps his hands busy by repairing a split seam in one of his robes, carefully mending the damage done in one of their sparring matches.

"If you twitch like that again I'm not going to continue. I almost took your ear off!" Baze grouses, straightening Chirrut's head to his liking.

"The Force will protect me." Chirrut replies with a mock-serenity that does almost nothing to hide the laughter underneath.

(Tinytag: Chirrut Imwe, Baze Malbus)

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"Hmph! The Force. It's a good thing I believe again, otherwise I'd be tempted to make you look awful," Baze grumbles, spraying Chirrut's hair down with the spray bottle again.

"Not that that would be hard to do."

"Nonsense, you are thanking the Force I am so difficult to ruin." Chirrut beams, carefully working to repair the seam. "A nice easy task, mmm?"

Baze holds the scissors at an angle, snipping off bits of hair.

"If I must thank the Force for something, it might as well be that," Baze says, grunting. "Though, to be frank, the thought never crossed my mind, not even in meditation. I think that must be because you're already ruined, Chirrut Imwe. You're just lucky I put up with you."

"Oh hush, it's alright, no one will blame you if you mess up perfection. You worry too much!" Chirrut chides, reaching out to snag the water bottle and spray some of the contents back at Baze.

Baze grunts again. It's a rather succinct grunt, he feels. The noise conveys his disapproval of the situation, his displeasure at Chirrut, and Baze's unwillingness to try something different. However, he knows that the universe as a whole will not spend energy analyzing his vocalizations, so he has to use his words.

"Perfection! Stop talking shavit," Baze says, wrestling the bottle away from Chirrut's hands after growling at the water he sprayed him with. "You're so far from perfection, you wouldn't know it if it bit you on the ass."

Chirrut smirks, but lets the comment and it's now wasted opportunity slide on by. There's no call to be rude just because the possibility is there.

"You know things go full circle, I'm just approaching it from the other direction." Chirrut replies, smugly. The hem is sprouting little embroidered leaves - he'd say it's to provide additional support, but mostly he just likes the way the decoration feels, and it's something to do.

Baze... doesn't have an argument for that. Chirrut wins again. The larger Guardian snorts, conveying his annoyance, and continues pruning the smaller one's hair.

"I like the embroidery," Baze says eventually, after cutting in stony silence for a little while. "And your haircut is coming along nicely. Stay still!"

Chirrut drops the hand he was reaching up to check the progress with, sighing.

"I could do your cuffs as well, if you like - I'd need a heavier needle to get through that fabric though."

Baze beams, pinching some strands of hair between his fingers before snipping the ends.

"I'd like that. I'd really like that," he says, dropping the tresses and smoothing his hand over Chirrut's head. "You can do other designs than leaves, right? It's been so long since I've seen you embroider, I've forgotten what you can do."

"Whatever you like, I suppose - if you etch out a pattern I can probably copy it, if you had something in mind." Chirrut carefully doesn't shrug, though there's still a minute twitch in his shoulders.

"Flowers," Baze says immediately, trimming the more unruly parts of the back of Chirrut's head. "In red and yellow--not that that means much to you, but they'll match my armor. Thanks, Chirrut. I'm sure Bar will provide a stronger needle."

He pauses in cutting, pensive. "I've been thinking... I'm going to try to wear my armor less. I... I don't really need it here. Do I?"

Chirrut does not do a little happy dance in his chair.

However, judging by the size of his smile, this is only because of a feat of superhuman will.

"I cannot be the judge of that... but I will be glad to encounter it less." He offers, because he knows this is as difficult as it is needed. He cannot make demands here - he can only celebrate victories.

There it is. Chirrut's smile is so wide, it looks like it hurts his face. That expression is dearer to Baze than any in all the universes, more lovely than anything Baze could have dreamed up. He could stare at Chirrut's grin forever.

Baze smiles back, and nudges his friend. "Thank you for staying still when I have sharp implements in my hand so close to your head."

The larger Guardian returns to clipping the smaller one's hair. "So, maybe just... in our rooms... I can take it off. And then get used to not wearing it. Maybe, once I get used to that, I can get some robes. Proper robes."

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Ibani may be using the presence of her friends downstairs to put off going back to Tattoine. Maybe.

She comes downstairs dressed rather differently than they've ever seen her, wearing black denim jeans, black boots, and a black t-shirt. The T-shirt has a rattlesnake coiled to strike on the front and the back and the words "Bites When Provoked" in English and Galactic Basic.

The boots sound about the same, but the noise of the denim legs rubbing against each other and the lack of swishing fabric will cue Chirrut in to the outfit change.

"Hello, Baze, Chirrut!" she calls.

"Ibani!" Chirrut beams, since he's refrained from actually getting up. "May the Force of others be with you! I'm glad to hear the armor isn't making an appearance today."

"Stay still, damn it, I'm holding scissors," Baze snaps. He turns to Ibani and waves at her with his free hand.

"Hello, Ibani! May the Force of others be with you!" Baze says, also beaming. "Nice shirt. Chirrut, her shirt has a snake on it with the words 'Bites When Provoked.' How are you, Ibani?"

"May the Force of others be with you!"

Ibani grins. "I decided to wear something lighter today. This was something Bar gave me, it seems she has a sense of humor."

"I'm doing well, putting off going back to Tatooine for a bit. How are the two of you?"

"I'm being threatened with bodily harm and Baze is exploring his artistic side." Chirrut offers cheerfully, his fingers busy repairing a torn seam in one of his robes. "So a fairly normal day."

Baze scoffs. "I wouldn't have to threaten you if you would just stay kriffing still," he snarls, clipping away at the unruly mess that is his friend's hair.

"I'm glad Bar gave you something to your tastes, Ibani," Baze says, not taking his eyes away from his pruning. "Are you hungry? We can eat and tease Chirrut, since he can't eat right now."

"Bodily harm, hm? And here I was wondering if you two would like to spar later, but I'm sure you've had your fill of bodily harm already," Ibani teases.

"Be a bit difficult for you to eat and cut his hair at the same time, wouldn't it?" she replies, winking at Baze. She's in a teasing mood, it seems.

"I can't eat? Have you been baking your brains on the beach, Malbus?" Chirrut asks, turning in his chair to poke at his friend. "And you'll be too busy to spar, you have to protect me, Ibani. He's becoming unmanageable."

Baze is of two minds about Ibani's words. On the one hand, he's like, 'damn, I didn't think of it that way.' On the other...

"No, no, I can eat, too, I'll just drop stuff on Chirrut's head," Baze says cheerfully, lifting the scissors away from Chirrut's head when he moves. "Protect you? From what? From actually giving you a decent haircut? Stay still."

Ibani chuckles. "Oh, what's he doing that's so unmanageable, hm?" she asks Chirrut.

She snorts at Baze. "If you drop stuff on his head, it will be REALLY difficult to cut his hair."

"He's threatening me now! Threatening a poor defenseless blind man, it's shameful." Chirrut sniffs as he's pushed back into place.

Baze snorts. "That's the worst lie I've ever heard, and I've heard some big ones."

He presses some strands of hair between two of his fingers, and, holding the scissors at an angle, clips the ends. "If you truly were defenseless, you never would have put me in the dirt as often as you have. Tell him, Ibani."