It's a doomed love affair. Irving's hair knows this from the start.
For one thing, they have very little in common.
Actually, one of them has very little, full stop. Unless you count superglue, which he does not.
But every time Carmine leans in, an arm close around Irving's shoulder as he points out some grand new deal he wants to make, some process he has in mind to restore whatever? Every time, Irving's hair wants to just float over there, maybe just a cuddle, a nuzzle, maybe try to gain a little reflected glory.
And Carmine's hair, well he can tell there's respect there. Carmine's hair sees Irving's hair for who it is, for hair that's lived a hard life and been knocked down a few times but always come up fighting. Carmine's hair recognizes that life because he's been there.
Yeah, sure, there's a jealousy issue, but they can talk that through, and as long as there's mutual respect, that's enough to build something from, right? Something real?
Irving's hair watches the news sadly as Carmine's hair is crushed, disrespected by the cop helping Carmine in the back of the squad car, as Carmine and his hair go away for a while (Irving's fault, and Irving's hair is not feeling very forgiving about that, he will tell you what), and he figures maybe it's not. Maybe he never had a chance anyway, because that's the way the world is for a guy like him.
He shifts grumpily against today's glue, which is particularly uncomfortable and definitely doesn't smell as nice as Carmine's fluffy mane, and flops a long strand down onto Irving's forehead. And sticks there.
Sure, it's petty, but if he can't have Carmine's hair, he's not letting Irving get away with his little games any more.