He had been, leaning on the side of the tub, his gaze soft. Now that Laertes is dry and clean, he hauls himself up in turn, dripping, and unstoppers the bath so it can drain. He's been above water so long his hair is starting to dry, the curls damp and tight, and he doesn't bother toweling it off, just his body, perfunctory.

"How's your head?"