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Ballister walks out of the newly renovated bathroom in what used to be his lair, scrubbing his hair with a towel to dry it off. He picks up a tshirt and pulls it over his head, struggling a bit due to the temporary absence of his prosthetic arm. Picking the towel back up he starts to make his way to bed, then pauses when he notices Ambrosius staring in confusion.
“Bal, you were in there for five minutes. Did you wash your hair? Anything?” It had been close to an hour before Ambrosius’s shower and subsequent hair and skincare routine was complete.
“Of course I did, I just didn’t use all your fancy hair products.” Ballister cocks an eyebrow and teasingly ruffles Ambrosius’s hair.
“The only other thing was a bottle of shower gel! Don’t tell me you used that… did you?”
The exaggerated concern on his boyfriend’s face is enough to make Ballister nod apprehensively, then launch an attack with his towel when Ambrosius flails in a display of melodramatic dismay.
“All these years together I wondered when you found the time to care for your hair and beautiful face in between training, because you always look so damn lovely, but I’ve been betrayed again! You only use SHOWER GEL?”
“Well the Academy showers only had bars of soap so-“
The resulting wail of horror from Ambrosius finally does it and Ballister bursts into laughter, tackling him on to the bed and trying to kiss him even as he’s practically trapped in a headlock. Ambrosius messes with Ballister’s hair, jokingly admonishing him for the apparently criminal lack of care to his hair. The commotion causes Nimona to pop her head through the door, staring with a deadpan expression at the two.
“Nimona!” Ambrosius exclaims upon noticing her appearance. “Tell Bal he needs to use more than just shower gel to wash his hair! It’s downright villainous!”
She snorts, bounding across the room to join the assault on Ballister and further pinning him to the bed as she and Ambrosius tickle him.
“I yield! I yield!” Ballister yelps, ribs starting to ache from laughing too hard. “I’ll take better care of my hair! Nimona, Ambrosius I’m sorry!”
“Oh don’t worry boss, I haven’t washed my hair in a thousand years!”
People on the edge of town swore that night that if they listened hard enough, they could hear comically dramatic wails of protest and peals of laughter from somewhere in the forest.