[Steve makes himself easy to find. Seated in one of the plush chairs, the second she enters he's centered directly in front of her, no more than three or four steps away. He's not lounging, but sitting up, slumped forward, hands folded in his lap.
The hair, usually kept so tidy, is now a mess and lacking its assortment of product. He glances over when she pops in, barely wincing at the door slam, and smiles apologetically. But, otherwise, he keeps quiet. And waits.]
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The hair, usually kept so tidy, is now a mess and lacking its assortment of product. He glances over when she pops in, barely wincing at the door slam, and smiles apologetically. But, otherwise, he keeps quiet. And waits.]