[He wouldn't mind stewing in Michel's hair soup, really, but he has half a mind to chop most of it off. Luckily, Yael isn't the type to act on intrusive thoughts.

Withdrawing his hand with a snort, Yael leans back against the pebbled rim of the bath.]

No? Not even by someone you fancy?

[Who's the deeply insecure man now? Yael smiles one of those rare, effortless smiles. It's not often that he enjoys the company of others, let alone those to fuss and bitch like Michel does, but there's an earnestness about people like him that never fails to charm him.]

Age has nothing to do with it. If I had my eye on someone, I'd be thrilled to be called cute by them. It's a compliment, you know.