[ What the fuck does she mean by 'lots of practice.' ]

The hell d --

[ Aaaand she's gone. Much more speedily than he'd expected, to be honest. He's already been getting the sense that Gray isn't just a normal, shy girl, given her unexpected ability to throw a mean punch, but ... ugh, whatever.

He ends up staying in place mostly because Gray took his lighter; he'd been growing real used to that one, and he wants it back. By the time Gray returns she'll find Gen draped over a nearby bench with atrocious posture, drowsily watching one of those cat-sized spiders coating the tip of his boot in webbing. It must be one of the strays that sometimes wander onto the Citadel grounds, and it looks over at the sound of Gray approaching, its many eyes gleaming despite the dim lighting. ]

The hell d'you mean, you have lots of practice. [ Gen, too, looks over at her return, head tipped against the back of the bench. Notably, he lets the spider stay where it is. He's tired, after all, and it's not like he actually has anything against stray animals. ] You know brushing your own hair isn't the same as doing it for other people, right.

[ He says, like he knows anything about how to tend to other people's hair. ]