[ He nods, but doesn't speak when he turns and heads for the bedroom, where he left his brush. What has he considered? It's a long, hazy recollection, too many things blurred together, such that he isn't sure there's a coherent explanation. Still... this is a better conversation now than it had been when they were both confused and at a loss as to what each other even meant.
He scrubs at his face with one hand, sitting on the bed without any attempt at grace. His brush, which yes, look, he has one! Bounces on the bed beside him, clattering to the floor. Hand dropping away from his face, he stares down at it, frowns, then leans forward, mess of more or less dried hair pooling around his head, reaching for the stupid thing. ]
no subject
He scrubs at his face with one hand, sitting on the bed without any attempt at grace. His brush, which yes, look, he has one! Bounces on the bed beside him, clattering to the floor. Hand dropping away from his face, he stares down at it, frowns, then leans forward, mess of more or less dried hair pooling around his head, reaching for the stupid thing. ]