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Bobby pushed an escaped lock of Simon’s hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear for him.
“Have you considered cutting this, now that you’re out of jail?” he asked.
Simon snorted, glowering at him. “Absolutely not."
Bobby smiled, stroking his fingers with difficulty through his shaggy hair. "You should at least brush it then. Or… let me brush it?”
Simon gave him a dubious look, but Bobby could see the flush creeping up his sharp cheekbones. “If you must, Fool Bright.”
“Letting it stay in knots simply wouldn’t be just, sir! Let me go get a comb!"
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