[ as olivine's fingers find their way through and into tseng's hair, he stays still, not wanting to pull or tug or inconvenience olivine in the least. it feels good, tseng finds, the slight tension at his scalp, the sensation of someone else's hands running through long strands of hair—when he ties his own, or washes it, he does so with methodical efficiency and no appreciation for the indulgence of it. not so, when it's olivine spoiling him.

when he feels the clip close around his hair, tseng stays still for another moment, then shifts slightly to make the beads twitch and shimmer amongst the dark fall of his hair. he can hear the whisper-soft shift of them just barely, and it makes him smile as he reaches up to touch the edge of the clip. ]

I'll need to find a mirror I can see it with, [ he says. the only mirror he has is the one in the bathroom, but tseng is sure he can figure something out to allow himself a glimpse at olivine's handiwork. ] Thank you, that was... nice. I enjoyed it. And I'm sure it looks wonderful.

[ now he can finally turn back to face olivine again, offering him a small but sincere smile before he leans in to kiss olivine lightly on the mouth. ]