I got you a pig, so please stop being angry...

[Anonymous]

"Huh?" Doyle blinked, staring at the long mass of Ruben's hair for a moment. He used to do his wife's hair and this felt a little intimate for him. Taking the twine, he moved behind the mage, his cheeks feeling a little awkward.

His large hands carefully gathered the hair back, "Just in a tail? Or do ya want a braid or somethin' fancy? I ain't that bad with hair."

[Tally]

Ruben turned his head until he could see Doyle from the corner of his eye.  "Where did you learn to fix hair?"

That was the last thing he would have expected of Doyle.  He didn't look like the type who would know anything about styling hair, and Ruben didn't quite believe it.  People tended to think they were better at things than they actually were.

[Anonymous]

"I thought I told ya, I was married. She had hair longer than yours. Real pretty red gold too." He remembered thinking it was like the sun had kissed her hair.

"Just a braid then? Keep it out o' your face better than just a tail." And he wanted to keep touching the soft, dark strands. His own hair wasn't half this soft. It was like touching silk. His fingers carefully split the hair into strands, french braiding Ruben's hair.

[Tally]

"That'll do fine."  So long as it stayed out of his face and was held back he didn't care.  For all that he allowed himself the vanity of long hair, he spent little time on it.  If it was clean and presentable then it was enough for him.  "What happened to your wife?"

[Anonymous]

That wasn't a question really wanted to avoid so instead he focused on Ruben's hair, "How come ya let it get so long? I mean, it's real pretty, but it's hard to have so much hair. Don't ya have trouble dealin' with it? I'm jealous though. My hair ain't this soft."

[Tally]

Ruben shrugged.  He'd wanted it long, so that's what he did, and had never stopped to question the whys of it.  "Anything worth having is worth working for," he said.  He hated that sentiment that a thing should be avoided just because it would take some effort.

[Anonymous]

"I suppose that is true." Doyle didn't really care that much, but it had done what he needed and Ruben wasn't asking about his wife anymore. He was down to the regular braiding now, enjoying himself, "I missed this a bit. It's kinda nice just doin' hair."

[Tally]

"Of course it's true."  There was no suppose about it.  It was one of the worthier truths of life, and he detested the sentiment that one should settle for what was easy, what was ready to hand.  There was a laziness to it that offended him on principle.

He usually detested having anyone help him with something, partly because others rarely met his expectations and partly because he simply despised feeling like there was something he could not do.  He tolerated it now only because it had become physically painful to bend his arm back and tie his hair like this, and because he was able to tell himself that he could do it, he just chose not to and avoid the discomfort.

"Good," he said, "because I'll need your assistance with it again until I can get that clasp fixed.  "I could do it," he added quickly, "it just hurts my arm and I prefer not to."

[Anonymous]

"I know. But yer injured and I like doin' it. Seems only fair." Doyle smiled, amused by Ruben's rush to insist he could do it on his own, "If ya like, I'm pretty handy, I can see if I can fix yer clasp. If not, and ya ain't too busy, we can take it to the smith tomorrow."

[Tally]

Exactly!  He was injured and he shouldn't have to.  It was only fair.  He'd never been one for getting his hair played with, but it was nice in a way to have someone attend to it.

Ruben nodded, a small movement so he didn't jostle whatever Doyle was doing back there.  "That'll be fine."

[Anonymous]

"There ya go." Doyle finished Ruben's braid and tied it off, reluctantly moving away. He absently ran a hand down the piglets spine, stroking the bristle there, "Did ya want to carry her outside, or should I? Don't wanna strain your arm none."

[Tally]

Ruben ran his fingertips lightly over the braid, then went in search of a mirror.  "She's fine there for now.  She's sleeping."

[Anonymous]

"Sure then. Whatever ya wanna do." Doyle's eyes followed Ruben, watching him search around for something. He didn't actually own any mirrors, didn't like them. There had been a cheap bronze one his wife had used, but she had taken it with her and he never bothered to replace it.

"Ya need somethin' else?"

[Tally]

He could have sworn he had brought a small mirror with him with the rest of his things, but after checking under papers and among the few items he kept here, the turned back to Doyle, fingertips trailing down the grooves of the braid at the back of his head. He'd never had his hair in such a way before.

"Mirror?"

[Anonymous]

"Oh...uh...I don't have one." Doyle flushed, standing up and looking around as it that would make one appear, "Unless there is one with yer things. I think my neighbor got one if ya don't mind waitin'?"

He smiled at Doyle, face twisting into that sneer of his, "I promise ya look nice though. I'm good with hair."

[Tally]

"Oh."  He endured a brief wave of disappointment, hands on his hips as he mimicked Doyle, glancing around as though the nonexistent mirror would suddenly show itself.

"No, that's...not necessary."  He started down and glanced back at the piglet.  "Do you think she an get down the stairs herself?"

[Anonymous]

"You sure? It ain't a problem.Or...uh...I think I got a bronze pot that might work?" Doyle glanced over at the sleeping piglet, following Ruben's gaze, "Maybe, but be better ta carry her. She might fall down up if she loses her balance."

[Tally]

"Go ahead and bring her down then."  He continued on down the stairs, feeling the sway of the braid behind him.  He dearly hoped he wouldn't have to deal much with the slave tonight.  Being here, Ruben was getting only a fraction of his normal work done.  He felt the press of time upon him constantly.

[Anonymous]

Doyle reached down and scooped the piglet up, cradling her against him. She stirred, but a few strokes and some soft words from Doyle and she drifted back asleep.

He trailed after Ruben, amused at the other man's tone, "Yes sir. Anywhere ya want me to put him sir?"

[Tally]

Doyle's heavy footsteps followed him down the stairs.  Once he reached the bottom, Ruben considered the options then pointed a cushioned chair near the kitchen.  "You can put her over the—"

He supposed Doyle thought that was funny. Ruben stopped short there at the foot of the stairs and turned a look upon Doyle of narrow eyes and slightly pursed lips.