[ He has to admit, her masks are more skillfully crafted than his own. The only reason he's suspects her is because, well, she has a rap sheet as long as both his arms combined. A devilish angel, or an angelic devil. Still, she means no true harm, and he's... mellowed over the centuries to her teasing.

It's a familiar dance, one he thinks he might have started to enjoy without realizing at some point. ]

Fair enough. [ He gives a light shrug, as though he's taking her point at face value. But then he adds: ]

But don't you think - perhaps - the artist might be honored that such a talented creature as yourself would deign to... edit his or her work?

[ Just make the hair nice.

Please. ]