[This is getting increasingly ridiculous. Altaïr doesn't know or care whether Fodlan's soldiers have an especially high rate of baldness, though he suspects Hilda is just making things up now. It's not the point!
(Is he really that good-looking? Altaïr had been aware on some vague level that he wasn't ugly; his face had been pleasant enough to stir some female interest. Certainly he's self-aware enough to know it wasn't his personality that brought some women to his bed. But mirrors hadn't been plentiful in the Holy Land and he hadn't cared to find one.)
He's distracted again by the way Hilda stares even harder at him for no particular reason that he can discern, and sets such thoughts aside.]
Maybe I'll consider that — maybe — when we are not traversing frozen mountains and guarding against the wind.
[No he won't. Not that it matters at the moment; he tries to pull his hood back up, but the boar's tusk has thoroughly torn it. It seems he'll have no choice but to show his face for the immediate future.]
no subject
(Is he really that good-looking? Altaïr had been aware on some vague level that he wasn't ugly; his face had been pleasant enough to stir some female interest. Certainly he's self-aware enough to know it wasn't his personality that brought some women to his bed. But mirrors hadn't been plentiful in the Holy Land and he hadn't cared to find one.)
He's distracted again by the way Hilda stares even harder at him for no particular reason that he can discern, and sets such thoughts aside.]
Maybe I'll consider that — maybe — when we are not traversing frozen mountains and guarding against the wind.
[No he won't. Not that it matters at the moment; he tries to pull his hood back up, but the boar's tusk has thoroughly torn it. It seems he'll have no choice but to show his face for the immediate future.]