Want is a another golden word, and Claudius cherishes every signed and spoken please. "Ay, come," he says with a smile. He twines his fingers back through Galahad's, and leads him over to the little vanity well-stocked with potions and creams, razors and scissors. "It will be quick, and easier than cutting my own hair. Just as certain dances are easier to lead, after learning to follow -- thou hast already done the same steps backwards." And he's picky with his own hair. Galahad has likely witnessed Claudius in deep contemplation over a single strand.