[As Qubit steps closer and gets on his toes, Carlisle dips his head without a second thought about his personal space being so utterly invaded. It comes so naturally between them, after all, more so than it has for anyone else in his entire life —
Nope, he's not sparing a second thought about that, either. He runs a gloved hand through the hairs at his temple idly, as though he could feel the texture through the fabric, and ponders just how far he's willing to let Qubit test hair products on him. He would really not like to lose it.]
I assume not. My leg is held on with but stitches and binding. Why would it be any different for my hair?
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Nope, he's not sparing a second thought about that, either. He runs a gloved hand through the hairs at his temple idly, as though he could feel the texture through the fabric, and ponders just how far he's willing to let Qubit test hair products on him. He would really not like to lose it.]
I assume not. My leg is held on with but stitches and binding. Why would it be any different for my hair?