For a moment Claudius stares at the image of them, in the oval mirror, and it's a silly, fleeting thought -- but he likes how they look together. Even in a moment like this, when Galahad has a towel around his shoulders and Claudius's shirt-front is sopping wet ... the two of us make a handsome couple.

He redirects his focus to Galahad's hair and, of course, starts fussing as soon as his fingers touch it. "Thy hair will lay differently when 'tis dried by the air," he says, with fondness in his voice for the many times he's touched Galahad and noticed something about it. "I swear thy hair has moods and humors. There are days it lays flat, and days it floats about thee like a fine mist. My hair used to curl in the sea-air; mayhap there's something in the air here, too."