Cheshire had grown accustomed to being the center of attention whenever he entered a salon, so it came as bit of a surprise when he found his favorite chair and didn’t earn so much as a glance.

All the normal stylists had gathered at a seat near the rear of the shop, where they were lavishing some other customer with their curiosity. Even the patrons already under dryers were straining in their chairs, trying to catch a glimpse. From his own seat Cheshire had no hope of seeing the cause of so much commotion, but he could hear a man’s voice amidst the chatter of the stylists, youthful and sweet, with a thick accent Cheshire couldn’t place.

“Mr. Bloom,” greeted Piotr as he swept up behind Cheshire, immediately reaching for his hair tie. “I expected we would see you. Preparing for the wedding?”

“Of course! Though it seems like I’ve come at a bad time.” He looked again to the gathering further in just as everyone began to coo with delight. “Or maybe the best time…? Depending on what’s going on over there…?”

Piotr huffed as he combed Cheshire’s hair with his fingers. “It’s that Miklos again,” he complained. “For the third time this week he’s here! It’s impossible to get anything done with the whole shop fawning.”

Any disappointment Cheshire might have felt over his lack of reception was immediately scattered as he looked to Piotr through the mirror. “Uh oh, be careful. You sound a bit...jealous.”

Piotr smacked him upside the head, which hurt probably more than he’d intended, thanks to his rings. “What will it be today, Mr. Bloom?” He drew strands of Cheshire’s bangs down to the base of his ear. “You’re going to let me cut it this time, aren’t you?”

“No!” Cheshire laughed in an attempt to dampen what must have looked like an instant of panic. “No, thank you. I can’t pull off a swoop like yours, Piotr. I just need a healthy trim.”

“If you say so,” said Piotr disappointedly, and he urged Cheshire out of the chair. “Let’s clean you up first.”

They passed the station with the mysterious “Miklos,” and Cheshire rose up on his toes, trying to see around the crowded stylists. Once again they cheered their guest with oohs and ahhs, but all Cheshire could see was a head of pale blond hair. “Should I be worried about them swooning?” he teased Piotr.

Piotr rolled his eyes aggressively. “He’s just showing off his magic,” he muttered, and he started to say more, but Cheshire abruptly reversed course toward the chair. “Oh, not you, too!”

Cheshire snuck up behind the circled crowd, where finally his height gave him an advantage. He didn’t know what he expected to see, what he would say or do, but he was alight with curiosity—he’d never seen real magic that wasn’t his own, and he bubbled with questions he wasn’t sure he could even ask. When he finally laid eyes on the young man, he understood immediately what the fuss had been about, and he all but ahh’d himself.

Miklos appeared to be no more than a teen, with a soft-featured, handsome face, and a smile that held just a hint of mischief. But the root of the attention he was receiving was his hair: thick and full, and a very unnatural but lovely shade of carnation pink. Cheshire had never seen anything like it, and as he watched, it began to change strand by strand to an equally unusual and striking sea-green. The girls clapped and murmured, but Cheshire wasn’t satisfied with the same. Without thinking he reached out to touch the top of the boy’s head.

Cheshire felt a shock like static, and he jerked his hand back. Miklos must have felt it as well, as he startled and turned, looking back in alarm. “Sorry,” Cheshire said quickly, hoping his bashful smile would aid his apology. “Sorry, I...couldn’t help it.”

“Chesh, you scared him,” one of the women scolded, and he gulped, suddenly the focus of many angry and possibly jealous looks. But then Miklos chuckled, and like its own magic all offense was excused.

“It’s all right,” Miklos assured, smiling at Cheshire so sweetly, he felt as if he were blushing. “I’m very used to it.”

He stood, and the stylists parted for him, watching with fascination as he stood directly in front of Cheshire. “Paybacks,” he whispered, and he sank his fingers into Cheshire’s bangs. Cheshire felt another shock, though muted this time, and held very still as Miklos drew them down his face just like Piotr had done.

“You’re not going to let them cut this, are you?” he asked with playful seriousness.

Cheshire gulped. He’s definitely a witch, he thought, trapped by Miklos’ impossibly lavender eyes. “O-Of course not!”

“Good man.” Miklos let go and threaded his fingers through his own hair, changing its color to a rich honey-blonde, just like Cheshire’s. With a bat of his eyelashes his eye color changed to match as well, and the crowd was sent into awe again.

“There’s not much I can do about matching that jawline,” he said to his audience, “but how does it look on me?”

As the crowd hurried to praise him, Piotr leaned into Cheshire’s shoulder with another huff. “Isn’t he just insufferable?” he muttered. “If it’s magic, it’s not like he’s even making an effort, I don’t see why—”

“That’s incredible!” Cheshire declared, as excited as any of them. “Can you do any color? Can you do just part?”

“What, like this?” Miklos blinked, and one eye and one eyebrow turned bright white.

“Wow!” Cheshire beamed ear to ear. “That must have taken practice. It’s a lot easier doing it all at once, right?”

Miklos’ eyes narrowed slightly at that, his lip turning up a little sharper. His hair returned to the soft pink it had been when Cheshire first approached. “Well, yes. You would know, wouldn’t you?”

A dozen pairs of eyes turned Cheshire’s way, and he froze. Don’t go showing off to strangers, Jakub had warned him in the wake of his encounter with the intimidating Detective Alice, and as he glanced from one face to the next, he suddenly had no idea which of them already knew about his magic, and which could be trusted if they didn’t. He gulped. “Would I?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Miklos pressed, eyebrows raised.

“I would...not.” Cheshire leaned back, smiling and hopefully looking easy and innocent. “I just assumed.”

Miklos regarded him a moment longer, and it wasn’t until then that Cheshire fully realized that it was the shock that had likely given him away. Did all witches feel like that? He tried to think of some way he could express himself, maybe in code or something, but then Miklos brightened. “Well,” he said with a shrug, “you assumed right. It’s quite a bit harder.” He smiled at his crowd. “Someday I’ll be able to do the whole rainbow at once.”

“Which means you’ll have no use for a salon,” Piotr interrupted, doing his best to shoo the staff back to their stations and the customers to their chairs. “So will you please carry on and let us get back to work?”

“My apologies,” said Miklos, so charming that even Piotr couldn’t help but soften a little. “But I’d still like a trim.” He returned to his seat and smiled. “These are the finest scissors in town.”

“Of course. Everyone, back to it!” Piotr rolled his eyes yet again and took Cheshire by the elbow. “You, too, Mr. Bloom.”

Cheshire allowed himself to be steered to a sink to have his hair washed. “You said he’s been here a few times?” he mused aloud as Piotr applied the shampoo. “Does he always get a cut?”

“The first time, he wanted a washing,” Piotr said, his irritation making his lathering very vigorous. “And then a shave, if you can believe that. Now he wants a trim. I think he’s only here to show off.”

“This is a good place for it,” Cheshire replied, enjoying the stronger-than-usual massage.

By the time Cheshire was back in his favorite chair, the crowd had mostly dispersed, but Miklos was still the topic of most conversations across the shop. A few even had stories of other magic users to share, which especially piqued Cheshire’s interest. In particular, a pair gossiping about a young girl who had recently departed for Jersey had his ear through his entire trim and drying. He was so engrossed that he barely noticed when someone sat down beside him; it wasn’t until a now familiar jolt went through him that he realized Miklos was leaning into his shoulder.

“I’ll be waiting outside,” he said, just softly enough that no one but them would be able to hear over the dryer. “I want to see your magic.” Cheshire stumbled over a reply, and by then Miklos was already heading for the door.

Cheshire had his breath held once he was finally on his way out as well. He had never encountered another magic user face to face and had no idea what to expect. It even occurred to him, as he spotted Miklos waiting on the sidewalk as promised, that it was probably unwise to trust him. He approached anyway, curiosity outweighing caution. “Hey.”

Miklos glanced over and smiled, his hair dulling to an unremarkable blond. “It’s Chesh, isn’t it?” he said. “Ready to show me your magic?”

Cheshire shoved his hands in his pockets. “Forward, aren’t you?”

“You’ve already seen mine,” Miklos said with a shrug. “We can go somewhere private, if you want, if it’s something...personal.”

“Dangerous,” Cheshire corrected him, and he was surprised when Miklos straightened, taking him very seriously. It was encouraging in the worst way, and he couldn’t help but play it up a little. “But if you really want to know...follow me.”

Cheshire turned. Already he was scolding himself for playing a bluff when the last thing he wanted was to scare off a peer, but thankfully Miklos hesitated only a moment before falling into step alongside. “I’m Miklos,” he introduced himself as they headed down the sidewalk. “Miklos Horvay.”

“Cheshire Bloom.” He didn’t like that Miklos suddenly looked wary of him, so he smiled reassuringly. “You’re the first witch I’ve met face to face in a long time. How did you get your magic?”

“I was born with it,” Miklos replied, gradually regaining his earlier cheer. “My grandmother used to say I was blessed by an angel.” He watched Cheshire curiously. “I didn’t know you could get magic any other way.”

“Ah...well….” Cheshire shrugged. “I wasn’t born with mine. This way.”

He turned down the nearest alley, and Miklos hesitated again before following. He didn’t take them far, though, just enough to be relatively safe from streetside eyes. A pile of trash against the wall provided him with a wad of old newspaper that would make a perfect demonstration.

“Don’t worry, it’s not that dangerous,” said Cheshire as he tugged one corner away from the rest of the crumpled ball, like a wick. “Watch this.”

Even after so much practice, it was still a worthy challenge to only light part of the paper, and Cheshire couldn’t help but smile to himself with relief as a small flame began to burn along the exposed edge. He glanced to Miklos for his reaction, and was surprised and amused to see streaks of pink rippling through his blonde, as if echoing out from the gleam of fascination in his eyes. Then Cheshire tossed the newspaper further into the alley, letting the fire sear through it entirely in seconds. With a brief crackle and a poof of ash, it had disintegrated entirely.

Miklos twitched with a shudder once it had gone out completely. “No,” he said distractedly. “You certainly weren’t born with that.”

Cheshire wasn’t sure if he should feel flattered or disturbed by Miklos’ reaction, and was too antsy to wait it out. “It’s something, right?” he said easily. “Someday I’m gonna figure out fireworks.”

Miklos seemed more than willing to play along with a lighter mood. “I’d like to see that, if you do,” he said, and a hint of mischief crept into his face. “Are you free tonight? I’ll take you to dinner.”

Cheshire hadn’t been expecting that at all, and he blushed, probably even smiling like an idiot. It suddenly felt like he had gone a long time without someone looking at him with the interest Miklos was showing then. “I’d like that,” he said, aiming for suave but landing more in the realm of childishly overeager. “I really would, but I’m actually on my way to a wedding.”

“Oh, yes, they were saying something about that inside,” said Miklos, and even his disappointment was charming. “Who’s the happy couple?”

“Kozlow and Szpilman,” Cheshire replied as they headed back out to the sidewalk, careful to mask any sarcasm. Happy couple, indeed. “I’ve never been to a Polish wedding, but I’ve been told to show up with an appetite.”

“Oh?” Miklos’ interest was suddenly keener than ever. “Those are big families, I’ve heard. Quite the guest list, then.”

“I’m sure every Pole in Brooklyn will be there. I’m just lucky I know the best man.”

Miklos hummed thoughtfully, and once they were out on the street again he threaded his arm through Cheshire’s elbow. “Then I’m lucky I know you,” he said, and Cheshire felt a thrill he couldn’t blame on their clashing magic. “I’ll be your date.”

Did Barney say I could bring a date? Cheshire thought, but that concern flittered quickly away. “Of course!” he said, alight at the prospect. “Just be sure you don’t take away too much attention from the bride.”

Miklos chuckled. “Between the two of us, that could be a problem,” he agreed, and they laughed together as they continued on.

“Hey,” said Cheshire. “Do you know how to braid?”