( He lets his hand fall. It's frustrating. There is a path here but there is a wall and he can't take the path and he can't see past the wall and it's not that he has no faith in Barrett, he just - like he'd had to be held still at the stadium and the waiting room, he doesn't like staying put. He can't be sure Barrett's fine unless he's there with him. He has to open the box.
But he doesn't miss the earnest sentiment in Barrett's gaze, the way it pleads for his trust and patience.
It's frustrating. But this frustration comes from some feeling he can't place, doesn't know the name of. )
... You don't have anything to prove, except to yourself. ( The last and most important person to convince, in the end. ) But this matters to you. So I'll trust you.
( He hates how this is up to DV now. His frustration is apparent, but at least he knows better than to lash out at Barrett.
If anything, he can hold tight to the reassurance that Barrett means to stay safe and alive. That's all anyone can promise right now - a declaration of intent.
He turns his cheek very slightly into Barrett's palm, his voice a little softer, almost a mutter, even though he's not admitting anything he hasn't said before - it expresses the tenderness of feeling, the raw and exposed heart beneath the bony plate, more than anything. )
... I'd rather be there. I'd rather be with you than not.
( Even if the frustration makes him feel like he could body Hien and DV at once ((reasons DV doesn't want to see him)). )
[There's nothing he can do to make sure that want comes to fruition, and promising as much he knows is cruel. So he doesn't.
His free hand finds rest against the hilt of Morgan's sword as he takes a step closer and leans in. Just enough to rest his temple against Morgan's hair, his touch lingering as the hand at his jaw traces down his neck. Not quite a hug, not quite a meeting of lips, but the desire to be close beyond a touch. It's a sensation that's familiar, if not a different taste in how it warms him.
Would you hold my hand until I fall asleep?]
I think... I feel the same.
You're here in front of me... I don't want to take it for granted.
[A slow exhale, rustling strands of hair, the heat just barely coasting Morgan's ear.]
I'm sorry I can't give you more. It makes me sad to see you upset like this.
( Some part of him could suggest this isn't Barrett's fault - it's the circumstance, styled by CC Corp and DV; but the other part of him suggests it is Barrett: for his faith, for which he may be punished; for his conviction, still, that he has something to prove. It's the sort of frustration you feel when you're worried about a person you care badly for - as unfamiliar as this language is to Mithrun, even now.
Barrett's weight feels real against him, little as he really leans onto Mithrun. It's warm, warm as it was in the hospital - and if he lets his eyes close, for a moment he can think they're still there, before all this happened. He's conscious of how that warmth traces along his jaw, his neck. )
... You're frustrated, too. ( His eyes flutters open in reflex when he feels Barrett's warm breath so faintly brush his sensitive ear, but he doesn't shift his head, or push away. ) ... I can't fix it.
( He sinks the tip of the sword into the dirt again, and he finds Barrett's hand at its hilt, and he tangles their fingers together, hilt between their palms, as if locking them there. )
... And you can't stay here.
( If Barrett's called away to some errand for DV - or, even simply, is affected by some condition, some effect, caused by the game... Mithrun has always been at peace, picturing himself the first to go - but if Barrett leaves first? If Barrett finds himself injured worse, even here, in this digital place? )
[The fingers laced with Morgan's squeeze tight nonetheless. For now, he's not going anywhere.]
I feel the same way, sometimes. When I remember what it is you want most. That... I can't ask you to stay. It makes me feel helpless.
But it's not my job to fight that fight for you. Or to change your mind. I just... [Another exhale, as he presses his lips into Morgan's hair.] All I can do is tell you how I feel. My frustration isn't your fight, either.
[It's where trust had to come into play, especially in these moments where both had factors outside themselves driving them away from one another into an unknown. Something they couldn't talk about, something they couldn't share.
There's a pause, letting himself withdraw just enough to try and look down towards Morgan. Still close, still nothing else in his vision or senses but the man in front of him, eyes searching. ]
...Do you remember anything from when you were unconscious on the bridge? I told you something, then. When I thought you'd might have been gone for good.
( His grip tightens on Barrett's in turn. For now, they're right here.
He doesn't answer Barrett's dialogue on his revenge - but he hears it, and he'd not thought how it might feel the same, when viewed from the other side of the fence. When faced with loss - strangely, given he'd felt like he'd had nothing left to lose - he understands so marginally what it means to inflict it on another.
Turning his gaze up to meet Barrett's, eyebrows so slightly knit, the sight of Barrett a full eclipse, it's - easy, easier, to say he likes being with him. Maybe it would even be easy to find the words to say he'd like to find him after Fragment - stringing together thoughts and ideas blithely and carelessly like a child babbling, learning to talk.
It's just, the scary part is the follow-up: and then I'll quit my revenge; and then I'll try to live. It seizes his stomach with an icy dread, and leaves him with a cold anger to big to stay in his body. He doesn't know what to do.
He shakes his head, after he thinks back for a time to his deep sleep. He can't recall Barrett's voice; vaguely, his features color with curiosity. )
... No. I don't remember anything. What did you say?
Mn. It probably sounds strange now, since you didn't die.
[He's said a lot. Some of it he knows is just repeat of ideals he's shared with Morgan before - echoes of what he wishes Morgan could have done and been.]
Hien let me stay with you alone for a little while. And I thought of the things you could have done and learned if you had more time. You could have grown old, and proven so many people wrong. [One person in particular.] I told you that. I told you I wished I could have been able to see it.
Wherever you had gone, I just hoped you'd find a way to feel a little more whole again. That whatever was out there would let you have that much.
[A last spiteful victory, perhaps. A kindness that life wasn't bringing him.
Barrett's eyes falter, drifting down. Voice quiet as the fingers against Morgan's neck curl and drift down his shoulder.]
...I didn't want him to win over you. I still don't.
[His mouth thins, a flicker of frustration on his own. But it's a context that feels like a mirror.]
I know you don't want DV to take me. And he won't. I don't think it's like that. But... I don't want that man to take you, either.
( There is some measure of him that wonders if he really could do these things, even with more time; there is so much of him that doubts. But Barrett speaks with such certainty, such faith, that Mithrun begins to wonder - what does he see? What does he feel, palm to cool skin? Mithrun sees himself in the mirror and he sees a small and withered thing, a desiccated body with the edges curled up black; if you leave him out he will break apart in the sun anyway.
But Barrett is so confident on this, he is so earnest about someone who has been fixed on leaving him eventually. It's a truth that curls up in his chest and occupies its space there. It feels like Barrett's warm hands; against his palm, along his neck, and shoulder. It's feel like Barrett wanting to ask him to stay.
Does Barrett feel this strange knot in him too, when Mithrun speaks of the professor? This vague sense of malaise, a cool-coming dread? Is how they feel toward each other on their respective influences linked?
Is this fear? )
... I trusted him too, until the worst happened. ( Until it was too late. ) He was kind to me in school, and when he first began to guide me down that spiral. I didn't know where he was leading me. His story was always clean. He always seemed kind, and in the right.
( He doesn't know if DV is the same. But - he could be. And what if he is?
His free hand catches the front of Barrett's chest - whatever bit of his armor allows for some grip. )
... Don't let DV put you somewhere no one can help you. ( Mentally, physically, whatever. ) There's still... things left for you. And I...
( ...
He pivots the sentence, some. )
... Why are you so sure there's so much left for me?
( Enough to sit with a body to speak to it. Enough to fly all that way. Enough to insist, even now, when it wouldn't have been unfair to give up on someone with a death wish. )
[He stays quiet through the talk of DV. Perhaps it makes sense, that his expression doesn't budge much. It's hard to read his expressions, his thought on the matter, and no way to tell what way DV might swing. Even as he asks for Barrett to keep his autonomy, there's no reaction.
It's when Mithrun turns the reflection back on himself that Barrett's countenance finally warms, like a candle slowly lighting under the burn of a match.]
...I just am.
[Just as confident as he had been about DV. Perhaps moreso. A statement that comes easily, if only for how certain he feels when he thinks of it, even if logic wants to wander.]
You're smart. You're curious. You're stubborn. You're really observant sometimes, even if you don't think you are. And you're so quick when you learn stuff. Even though we haven't known each other too long yet, I still see you trying and doing things you were worried you couldn't do when we first met.
I see how you keep going now. And I think you're strong. Way stronger than me, sometimes.
[Like watching the roar of flames against the immovability of the earth. A force that's different and passionate and unknowable, smouldering and smoking and waiting when it's lost its fuel, but never truly gone. Perhaps the earth cherishes the scars the flames leaves behind, if it means it can grow richer from its time.
Parting from skin, his free hand drifts to meet that grip against his chestplate. Not prying him loose, but pressing him in, keeping him there with a gentle, loose splay of rougher fingers overtop. He's still here. He's not leaving. Cling if he needs.
It feels like a silent request to stay.]
...I thought that from the moment I met you. That you deserved to live. It hasn't changed.
( His fingers at Barrett's chest curl in tighter, a heat bubbling in his chest, flames licking up his throat. This is dangerous - this is distraction. Gone wayside from ensuring himself eaten, he might - begin to forget himself so empty. He'd felt this way, a little bit, in the hospital; he'd felt this some in the hot springs, and the beginning of it in Barrett's half-used bedroom in the guild. A threat that he might feel steady, that he might feel anchored.
It's a terrible thing. To accept Barrett means to accept the big and broad world as something to live in, not give up on. Barrett wouldn't want him to find meaning in one person alone. And that's - a big ask. It was so easy when anger filled him; it was a fire violence could eject, but - this?
And still, and yet, like a rumbling earthquake it moves him, and leaves a heavy thumping in his chest. )
... It's...
( His gaze falls from Brett's earnest face, and he wonders if only Barrett can see these things, from his angle, the way only Mithrun can see how Barrett looks now. Barrett didn't understand when Mithrun said he liked how he looked when he smiled - had he ever seen himself like this? Did he know the depth of the trouble he's caused, wanting Mithrun to stay? )
... It's easier to try when you're here. I don't know why. ( Try, even with the conviction that he can never be full. ) Living is... carrying this empty. Walking with risk of loss. That's hard. But...
( And maybe that's what scares him most. That he has to feel the way he's felt these past two years - forever? That's a lot. It's hard to gaze out into the world and feel like you're not a part of it. )
... But if... if I tried... would you walk with me?
( Even if Barrett can't promise forever. Even though Mithrun knows he's a burden, that he still needs help, and maybe he always will need some. That's a lot - that's a lot to ask of someone else. )
[He feels, maybe, if he'd heard these words even a month prior, he wouldn't understand completely about the possible weight they carried. He wouldn't understand the idea of pushing on with life despite an empty feeling clawing up.
Maybe it's not the same feeling between them... but there's a raw fear that's come with his own accident, with trying to process it, that makes him pause at the carefully worded struggle Morgan voices. An empathy, knowing the deep hole looks impossible from the inside.
So he doesn't offer the reassurances he might have weeks ago. He doesn't deny that it will be hard.
It's not his choice. All he can do is share his feelings.
Morgan looks away, and Barrett leans back into him with the touch of his temple. So Morgan can feel the careful, steady nod of his head if he doesn't trust his own eyes.]
Mn. I think... I'd really like to be there. As long as I can.
[Even if there isn't much he can do anymore other than be a companion. Even if all he's left with is to watch. Maybe it could be some protection, something useful.
To be enough.]
We'll find our way through Fragment. I know we will. I'm going to be reunited with everybody I care about by the end of this. And I want you to be there, too.
( Barrett's slight weight, his presence, is a balm. And when he speaks with such confidence, Mithrun thinks - maybe he can start to believe things may change, in him.
This is bad. He's really distracted. But... )
... I guess there's still a chance for me to become stock.
( His answer resounds with a gentle, implied, Okay. What Barrett said to him in the hot springs feels like so long ago, but he hasn't forgotten, even through all his doubt.
He turns his head aside and up to look to Barrett's face, and he looses his grip at both the hilt and armor to reach up to take Barrett's face on either side - turning him proper to look him in the eye. )
... If DV, or CC Corp, or anyone else - if anyone puts you somewhere out of reach... I'll find you and bring you back. You need to be there, too, to tell me how I taste.
[He takes on the weight of the broadsword in his hand as his face is led to rest in Morgan's touch, meeting Morgan's eyes, hearing the statement of intent, of a dedication that he wasn't expecting... It softens his face with surprise, a parting of his lips that could just barely be missed if they weren't so close together. No words follow, but it doesn't seem to be out of inability this time - not with the way his eyes swim in warmth, in silence, unsure what to say but still letting the smile come regardless, reaching the corners of his eyes, tugging up under Morgan's palms.]
You'll be more delicious every time. I know you will.
[There's lingering heat to the syllables, one he feels radiate down his own body like the smallest electrical shock, holding his eyes in a way that looks almost starving. But it's the sounds of others using equipment in the distance that breaks him of his stance before he can ask what comes over his mind, exhaling as he turns his face into one of Morgan's palms, anchoring it from the other side with his free hand as peppers the tender inside with his lips, slow and careful and explorative of the flesh underneath - just like their first kiss had been.
When his lips draw to a halt, he doesn't look like he wants to stop. But he tilts the abandoned sword in Mithrun's direction, even as he lowers that tender palm from his mouth.]
( Mithrun swallows, Barrett's hungry gaze reflected clear in his own black eye. His hands feel a little warmer against Barrett's skin, his fingers just near enough to the slight part of his lips; close enough to taste, close enough for - something else he doesn't know the shape of, yet, besides the way it leaves that heavy thump in his chest in its wake.
Barrett interrupts it with his lips, in a different way - not unwelcome; his fingers curl in against his cheek, his gaze softening - or, maybe, going a little bit hungrier. )
... All right.
( But he doesn't voice this feeling, yet, because he thinks that it's something adjacent to eating - its neighbor, but not its equal.
He takes up his blade as if nothing were amiss, the sensation of Barrett's lips still hot against his palm, and the tips of his ears, though it's so easy to miss through his hair, just a little bit warmer in shade. )
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no subject
But he doesn't miss the earnest sentiment in Barrett's gaze, the way it pleads for his trust and patience.
It's frustrating. But this frustration comes from some feeling he can't place, doesn't know the name of. )
... You don't have anything to prove, except to yourself. ( The last and most important person to convince, in the end. ) But this matters to you. So I'll trust you.
( He hates how this is up to DV now. His frustration is apparent, but at least he knows better than to lash out at Barrett.
If anything, he can hold tight to the reassurance that Barrett means to stay safe and alive. That's all anyone can promise right now - a declaration of intent.
He turns his cheek very slightly into Barrett's palm, his voice a little softer, almost a mutter, even though he's not admitting anything he hasn't said before - it expresses the tenderness of feeling, the raw and exposed heart beneath the bony plate, more than anything. )
... I'd rather be there. I'd rather be with you than not.
( Even if the frustration makes him feel like he could body Hien and DV at once ((reasons DV doesn't want to see him)). )
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His free hand finds rest against the hilt of Morgan's sword as he takes a step closer and leans in. Just enough to rest his temple against Morgan's hair, his touch lingering as the hand at his jaw traces down his neck. Not quite a hug, not quite a meeting of lips, but the desire to be close beyond a touch. It's a sensation that's familiar, if not a different taste in how it warms him.
Would you hold my hand until I fall asleep?]
I think... I feel the same.
You're here in front of me... I don't want to take it for granted.
[A slow exhale, rustling strands of hair, the heat just barely coasting Morgan's ear.]
I'm sorry I can't give you more. It makes me sad to see you upset like this.
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Barrett's weight feels real against him, little as he really leans onto Mithrun. It's warm, warm as it was in the hospital - and if he lets his eyes close, for a moment he can think they're still there, before all this happened. He's conscious of how that warmth traces along his jaw, his neck. )
... You're frustrated, too. ( His eyes flutters open in reflex when he feels Barrett's warm breath so faintly brush his sensitive ear, but he doesn't shift his head, or push away. ) ... I can't fix it.
( He sinks the tip of the sword into the dirt again, and he finds Barrett's hand at its hilt, and he tangles their fingers together, hilt between their palms, as if locking them there. )
... And you can't stay here.
( If Barrett's called away to some errand for DV - or, even simply, is affected by some condition, some effect, caused by the game... Mithrun has always been at peace, picturing himself the first to go - but if Barrett leaves first? If Barrett finds himself injured worse, even here, in this digital place? )
no subject
Yeah. I can't.
[The fingers laced with Morgan's squeeze tight nonetheless. For now, he's not going anywhere.]
I feel the same way, sometimes. When I remember what it is you want most. That... I can't ask you to stay. It makes me feel helpless.
But it's not my job to fight that fight for you. Or to change your mind. I just... [Another exhale, as he presses his lips into Morgan's hair.] All I can do is tell you how I feel. My frustration isn't your fight, either.
[It's where trust had to come into play, especially in these moments where both had factors outside themselves driving them away from one another into an unknown. Something they couldn't talk about, something they couldn't share.
There's a pause, letting himself withdraw just enough to try and look down towards Morgan. Still close, still nothing else in his vision or senses but the man in front of him, eyes searching. ]
...Do you remember anything from when you were unconscious on the bridge? I told you something, then. When I thought you'd might have been gone for good.
no subject
He doesn't answer Barrett's dialogue on his revenge - but he hears it, and he'd not thought how it might feel the same, when viewed from the other side of the fence. When faced with loss - strangely, given he'd felt like he'd had nothing left to lose - he understands so marginally what it means to inflict it on another.
Turning his gaze up to meet Barrett's, eyebrows so slightly knit, the sight of Barrett a full eclipse, it's - easy, easier, to say he likes being with him. Maybe it would even be easy to find the words to say he'd like to find him after Fragment - stringing together thoughts and ideas blithely and carelessly like a child babbling, learning to talk.
It's just, the scary part is the follow-up: and then I'll quit my revenge; and then I'll try to live. It seizes his stomach with an icy dread, and leaves him with a cold anger to big to stay in his body. He doesn't know what to do.
He shakes his head, after he thinks back for a time to his deep sleep. He can't recall Barrett's voice; vaguely, his features color with curiosity. )
... No. I don't remember anything. What did you say?
no subject
[He's said a lot. Some of it he knows is just repeat of ideals he's shared with Morgan before - echoes of what he wishes Morgan could have done and been.]
Hien let me stay with you alone for a little while. And I thought of the things you could have done and learned if you had more time. You could have grown old, and proven so many people wrong. [One person in particular.] I told you that. I told you I wished I could have been able to see it.
Wherever you had gone, I just hoped you'd find a way to feel a little more whole again. That whatever was out there would let you have that much.
[A last spiteful victory, perhaps. A kindness that life wasn't bringing him.
Barrett's eyes falter, drifting down. Voice quiet as the fingers against Morgan's neck curl and drift down his shoulder.]
...I didn't want him to win over you. I still don't.
[His mouth thins, a flicker of frustration on his own. But it's a context that feels like a mirror.]
I know you don't want DV to take me. And he won't. I don't think it's like that. But... I don't want that man to take you, either.
Does it scare you? Hearing me talk about him?
no subject
But Barrett is so confident on this, he is so earnest about someone who has been fixed on leaving him eventually. It's a truth that curls up in his chest and occupies its space there. It feels like Barrett's warm hands; against his palm, along his neck, and shoulder. It's feel like Barrett wanting to ask him to stay.
Does Barrett feel this strange knot in him too, when Mithrun speaks of the professor? This vague sense of malaise, a cool-coming dread? Is how they feel toward each other on their respective influences linked?
Is this fear? )
... I trusted him too, until the worst happened. ( Until it was too late. ) He was kind to me in school, and when he first began to guide me down that spiral. I didn't know where he was leading me. His story was always clean. He always seemed kind, and in the right.
( He doesn't know if DV is the same. But - he could be. And what if he is?
His free hand catches the front of Barrett's chest - whatever bit of his armor allows for some grip. )
... Don't let DV put you somewhere no one can help you. ( Mentally, physically, whatever. ) There's still... things left for you. And I...
( ...
He pivots the sentence, some. )
... Why are you so sure there's so much left for me?
( Enough to sit with a body to speak to it. Enough to fly all that way. Enough to insist, even now, when it wouldn't have been unfair to give up on someone with a death wish. )
no subject
It's when Mithrun turns the reflection back on himself that Barrett's countenance finally warms, like a candle slowly lighting under the burn of a match.]
...I just am.
[Just as confident as he had been about DV. Perhaps moreso. A statement that comes easily, if only for how certain he feels when he thinks of it, even if logic wants to wander.]
You're smart. You're curious. You're stubborn. You're really observant sometimes, even if you don't think you are. And you're so quick when you learn stuff. Even though we haven't known each other too long yet, I still see you trying and doing things you were worried you couldn't do when we first met.
I see how you keep going now. And I think you're strong. Way stronger than me, sometimes.
[Like watching the roar of flames against the immovability of the earth. A force that's different and passionate and unknowable, smouldering and smoking and waiting when it's lost its fuel, but never truly gone. Perhaps the earth cherishes the scars the flames leaves behind, if it means it can grow richer from its time.
Parting from skin, his free hand drifts to meet that grip against his chestplate. Not prying him loose, but pressing him in, keeping him there with a gentle, loose splay of rougher fingers overtop. He's still here. He's not leaving. Cling if he needs.
It feels like a silent request to stay.]
...I thought that from the moment I met you. That you deserved to live. It hasn't changed.
no subject
It's a terrible thing. To accept Barrett means to accept the big and broad world as something to live in, not give up on. Barrett wouldn't want him to find meaning in one person alone. And that's - a big ask. It was so easy when anger filled him; it was a fire violence could eject, but - this?
And still, and yet, like a rumbling earthquake it moves him, and leaves a heavy thumping in his chest. )
... It's...
( His gaze falls from Brett's earnest face, and he wonders if only Barrett can see these things, from his angle, the way only Mithrun can see how Barrett looks now. Barrett didn't understand when Mithrun said he liked how he looked when he smiled - had he ever seen himself like this? Did he know the depth of the trouble he's caused, wanting Mithrun to stay? )
... It's easier to try when you're here. I don't know why. ( Try, even with the conviction that he can never be full. ) Living is... carrying this empty. Walking with risk of loss. That's hard. But...
( And maybe that's what scares him most. That he has to feel the way he's felt these past two years - forever? That's a lot. It's hard to gaze out into the world and feel like you're not a part of it. )
... But if... if I tried... would you walk with me?
( Even if Barrett can't promise forever. Even though Mithrun knows he's a burden, that he still needs help, and maybe he always will need some. That's a lot - that's a lot to ask of someone else. )
no subject
Maybe it's not the same feeling between them... but there's a raw fear that's come with his own accident, with trying to process it, that makes him pause at the carefully worded struggle Morgan voices. An empathy, knowing the deep hole looks impossible from the inside.
So he doesn't offer the reassurances he might have weeks ago. He doesn't deny that it will be hard.
It's not his choice. All he can do is share his feelings.
Morgan looks away, and Barrett leans back into him with the touch of his temple. So Morgan can feel the careful, steady nod of his head if he doesn't trust his own eyes.]
Mn. I think... I'd really like to be there. As long as I can.
[Even if there isn't much he can do anymore other than be a companion. Even if all he's left with is to watch. Maybe it could be some protection, something useful.
To be enough.]
We'll find our way through Fragment. I know we will. I'm going to be reunited with everybody I care about by the end of this. And I want you to be there, too.
Please don't give up yet.
no subject
This is bad. He's really distracted. But... )
... I guess there's still a chance for me to become stock.
( His answer resounds with a gentle, implied, Okay. What Barrett said to him in the hot springs feels like so long ago, but he hasn't forgotten, even through all his doubt.
He turns his head aside and up to look to Barrett's face, and he looses his grip at both the hilt and armor to reach up to take Barrett's face on either side - turning him proper to look him in the eye. )
... If DV, or CC Corp, or anyone else - if anyone puts you somewhere out of reach... I'll find you and bring you back. You need to be there, too, to tell me how I taste.
no subject
You'll be more delicious every time. I know you will.
[There's lingering heat to the syllables, one he feels radiate down his own body like the smallest electrical shock, holding his eyes in a way that looks almost starving. But it's the sounds of others using equipment in the distance that breaks him of his stance before he can ask what comes over his mind, exhaling as he turns his face into one of Morgan's palms, anchoring it from the other side with his free hand as peppers the tender inside with his lips, slow and careful and explorative of the flesh underneath - just like their first kiss had been.
When his lips draw to a halt, he doesn't look like he wants to stop. But he tilts the abandoned sword in Mithrun's direction, even as he lowers that tender palm from his mouth.]
Practice with me for a while.
no subject
Barrett interrupts it with his lips, in a different way - not unwelcome; his fingers curl in against his cheek, his gaze softening - or, maybe, going a little bit hungrier. )
... All right.
( But he doesn't voice this feeling, yet, because he thinks that it's something adjacent to eating - its neighbor, but not its equal.
He takes up his blade as if nothing were amiss, the sensation of Barrett's lips still hot against his palm, and the tips of his ears, though it's so easy to miss through his hair, just a little bit warmer in shade. )