[He's considering saying something, or maybe just turning around and slipping back out to give her her privacy when Hayame lifts her head to snarl towards the tent's entrance. The reaction doesn't surprise him. Although others in Meridian have been encouraged to share glimpses of their own worlds, Liem was never under the illusion that Hayame might share something that precious so publicly.
He meets her stare through the dark lenses of his sunglasses — a barrier that is less important now that he can use magic to shield himself from the sun, but one that he nevertheless maintains for appearance's sake. At her comment about his beard, Liem blinks. But the signal to keep the focus of any conversation away from herself is clear enough.]
I'm not used to it either.
[He lifts a hand, absently, to rub at the greying hair on his jaw. Even now, while the vitality Gray lent him is still easing the harsher lines and shadows of his face, the beard makes him look considerably older. But he supposes that's a little more honest, if anything.]
I just don't have the time to keep it shorn. If I shave at dawn, the stubble is back by mid-morning. And I'm too busy to be loitering in front of a mirror every few hours to attend it.
[Easier just to trim it, to keep it from getting wild. His hair is a bit more of a lost cause; he can't trim it himself, and although he makes an effort to keep it combed back from his face, in the week or so since he was last at a barber it's become more than a little fluffy.]
no subject
He meets her stare through the dark lenses of his sunglasses — a barrier that is less important now that he can use magic to shield himself from the sun, but one that he nevertheless maintains for appearance's sake. At her comment about his beard, Liem blinks. But the signal to keep the focus of any conversation away from herself is clear enough.]
I'm not used to it either.
[He lifts a hand, absently, to rub at the greying hair on his jaw. Even now, while the vitality Gray lent him is still easing the harsher lines and shadows of his face, the beard makes him look considerably older. But he supposes that's a little more honest, if anything.]
I just don't have the time to keep it shorn. If I shave at dawn, the stubble is back by mid-morning. And I'm too busy to be loitering in front of a mirror every few hours to attend it.
[Easier just to trim it, to keep it from getting wild. His hair is a bit more of a lost cause; he can't trim it himself, and although he makes an effort to keep it combed back from his face, in the week or so since he was last at a barber it's become more than a little fluffy.]