[ He laughs at that. ]

I won't argue with you there, actually. I don't feel particularly lucky to be here, myself, despite all the fanfare. [ Largely because he didn't choose to be here and he was expected to fight for a cause that wasn't his own.

He keeps quiet as Adra continues, working diligently and silently at dotting areas of that voluminous, loose braid with hints of red. Initially, he isn't surprised by the description. Adra seemed very comfortable around magic (it seemed like one of the few things he was comfortable around, actually...), so it makes sense that he should hail from such a whimsical, wondrous land.

Then, his hands pause where they stand, lightly rested against the edge of Adra's scalp, for just a second while he takes that second part in.

He may be reading too much into it, but in that moment, he thinks he may understand why Adra was so apprehensive about entering the shop, about accepting a little bit of vanity. ]

Beautiful, but only on the surface. It sounds like such a trait doesn't just apply to the land itself, either.