“I could do it, if you want.” she says easily, looking down at him as she cards her fingers at the shorter hair at the base of his skull. “I’ve always cut my own.”

He could go to a proper barber here, she realizes, but she assumes that he probably doesn’t enjoy a stranger touching him so intimately, so she makes the offer anyway.

His ears are revealed like this, and she traces the shells of them with her thumbs. They’re endearingly large and the tips of them get red when he’s flustered. She adores them.