[Honestly, he'd meant it in more of a general sense. He can't imagine Isabeau telling anyone they look bad. But even as a joke, the suggestion that he gets special treatment is...something. Strange, but nice. His cheeks feel a little warm, and he's once again glad he's facing away.]
Then I'll ask her and see just how biased you are.
[The thought of Isa cutting their hair is a little thrilling, even. They want to see what he'd do with it. They want to put a blade in his hand and sit with their back to him and revel in that trust.
It wasn't just a lack of funds or a decent hairdresser that'd had him chopping at his own hair with a dagger, after all. Once upon a time, he couldn't have imagined letting anyone near his head with a sharp object like that. The time he'd spent on his own wasn't always pleasant, especially in the earliest years when he was barely more than a kid and still struggled with new languages while his native one was lost to him. Not everywhere was as kind and accepting as Vaugarde. Some people were wary of a nameless, penniless, storyless drifter. Some people saw an aimless lone teenager far from home as a target.
Exhaling softly, he leans his head back as if pulled by the gentle tugging, bumping his head back against Isabeau's hands. It's a little reminiscent of a cat butting its head against someone's palm, seeking pets, but Siffrin guesses he can live with the risk of more cat Sif jokes right now.]
Yeah, I trust you.
[With anything and everything, really. They weren't sure they could ever really convey the depths of it. But that's probably a little heavy to dump on Isabeau out of nowhere, so they'll leave it at hair for now.]
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Then I'll ask her and see just how biased you are.
[The thought of Isa cutting their hair is a little thrilling, even. They want to see what he'd do with it. They want to put a blade in his hand and sit with their back to him and revel in that trust.
It wasn't just a lack of funds or a decent hairdresser that'd had him chopping at his own hair with a dagger, after all. Once upon a time, he couldn't have imagined letting anyone near his head with a sharp object like that. The time he'd spent on his own wasn't always pleasant, especially in the earliest years when he was barely more than a kid and still struggled with new languages while his native one was lost to him. Not everywhere was as kind and accepting as Vaugarde. Some people were wary of a nameless, penniless, storyless drifter. Some people saw an aimless lone teenager far from home as a target.
Exhaling softly, he leans his head back as if pulled by the gentle tugging, bumping his head back against Isabeau's hands. It's a little reminiscent of a cat butting its head against someone's palm, seeking pets, but Siffrin guesses he can live with the risk of more cat Sif jokes right now.]
Yeah, I trust you.
[With anything and everything, really. They weren't sure they could ever really convey the depths of it. But that's probably a little heavy to dump on Isabeau out of nowhere, so they'll leave it at hair for now.]