To the Gavin brothers, hair is serious business.

As long as Klavier could remember, his brother always had a certain flair that he could never quite put his finger on. Kristoph possessed an unmistakable poise that Klavier always admired, and was the thing that he always knew to be what made him the "coolest defense in the west."

When Klavier began his career at the tender age of seventeen, he respected his brother even more; keeping cool under such circumstances was definitely a feat. It could be attributed to experience, of course, but Klavier always felt his brother's calm, confident demeanor was just a difference in personality that countered his younger brother's fun-loving rashness.

Given seven years' time, Klavier could say it was experience or temperament, but he knew the true secret to his brother's confidence.

For in that seven years' time, he had grown older, (a bit) wiser, and, perhaps most importantly, famous. He had cultivated a public image that had to be maintained with regular discretion. As a figure of high caliber, though, he was allowed certain freedoms. He adorned himself with a gratuitous amount of jewelry, just because he could. He could sit around all day and play the guitar if he wanted to. He distracted himself frequently with luxurious toys.

And he let his hair grow as long as he wanted. This may seem trivial to those not in the know (namely, everyone outside the Gavin lineage), but it proved most significant to Klavier. His long hair was truly a thing to behold, he believed, as it would naturally wind itself into the tight coil his brother sported, even if combed through. After thinking on it, the phenomenon was a bit creepy-sounding on paper, but it wasn't as if Gavin hair was sentient or anything.

Regardless, every time Klavier happened to pass by a mirror, he would stop to admire his perfect, effortless coiffure. Women turned their heads when he walked down the street. He exuded a confidence that he lacked in his tender teenage years, a confidence that he now shared with his brother.

It was all thanks to hair.

Gavin hair is special. And it is serious business indeed.

Hair of Gavin distinction had to be properly taken care of.

Klavier was blissfully unaware of this fact, that is, until a certain trouble reared its ugly head one unfortunate morning.

It was rather hard to miss, really. Once the shower steam cleared, and Klavier's routine was nearing its end, it was apparent that something was wrong. Something was very wrong, and it was made particularly egregious by the nature of the Gavin coif.

"Split ends," Klavier hissed. He held the tip of his drill between two fingers, where it frayed like an old paint brush.

He sighed. Having not to deal with such a problem before, he was at a loss. He could call his brother, but that seemed too easy. He could call Ema, who surely has experience with hair problems, but he would risk facing her Snackoo-fueled wrath for disturbing her weekend and day off.

"Split ends?"

"Ja!" Klavier answered impulsively.

"Fight them with Spice Style Silky Smooth shampoo!" the TV blared. "Instantly eliminates the visibility of split ends!"

Klavier ran his hand through his hair thoughtfully. It was his best, and most convenient bet.

However, there was another issue he was about to face upon his arrival at the friendly neighborhood big box department store.

Not one bottle of Spice Style shampoo was on the shelf.

Klavier was, at first, visibly distressed. He continually ran his hands through his hair, twisting and untwisting his locks. He scanned the vast assortment of bottles again and again, and still he saw not a bottle.

His eyes eventually wandered to a sign hanging above the aisle, reading "Men's Hair Care" in bold letters. His shoulders dropped, and he let out an enlightened and concerned "oh."

He didn't see any of the fabled shampoo because it was made for women only.

This made sense in retrospect, Klavier admitted, since women generally care much more for their hair and so the hair care industry capitalizes on this by offering a wide range of products for a wide range of hair types and common ailments. Men, on the other hand, are lucky to get dandruff control.

Spice Style was one such shampoo made specifically for women, and came in many different types and varieties.

Klavier looked around. To his horror, the women's hair care products were, of typical fashion, in the next aisle.

He would need to act cool; a nonchalant attitude was necessary to deflect suspicion. It wasn't really that embarrassing, Klavier thought, but he knew that the gossip magazines would be all over the (single) rock star-prosecutor purchasing women's shampoo. That carefully cultivated image would be blown away by the gust of the country's collective chortle.

With stealth and precision, he slinked out of the aisle, knocking his sunglasses off of his head and onto his face with a flick of the finger. He looked over his shoulder, his other shoulder, and his shoulder again before sauntering to the next aisle over.

The women's hair care aisle was rather similar by comparison, though the red/blue color palette was swapped for a more eye-catching rainbow assortment. Luckily for Klavier, not a soul could be found in the aisle, and he swooped in with haste.

He scoured the display quickly, and found the Spice Style line hiding amongst fruity faux-French brands and mass-market designer bottles. He was almost in the clear.

"Hello, Klavier."

His proverbial free ride crashed violently. Klavier even thought he heard the glass windows breaking.

He whipped his head around and met the speaker, his brow arched suspiciously.

"Hello, Kristoph."

"Shopping?" Kristoph asked with a playful tone.

"Ja," Klavier replied flatly. "What are you doing here, brother?"

Kristoph's head lolled, the fluorescent lights reflecting off of his glasses and obscuring his eyes.

"The same thing you are," he said lightly, "brother."

Klavier followed Kristoph's hand as it reached up to grab, much to Klavier's trepidation and dread, a bottle of Spice Style Silky Smooth shampoo. Kristoph placed it in his basket and smiled his mysteriously sinister smile, a smile that Klavier knew well. It always came out when Kristoph was teasing him.

"It's excellent shampoo," Kristoph added. The rub was Kristoph's specialty, one line he liked to deliver just before the end. It was a tactic he employed regularly in court, and one he loved to use out of court.

He walked away, leaving Klavier both shaken and exhausted.

Who knows how long Kristoph knew about this shampoo.

As Klavier grabbed the shampoo and stalked away, he realized he still had a long way to go. The throne for the coolest attorney in the west was far from being seized anytime soon, and he was far from inheriting it.

Maybe it wasn't all thanks to hair.

…

Disclaimer: The only way to get rid of split ends is to trim them off. Silly Klav.