This is the second time Angus has enjoyed a little light preening; as far as he can tell, it's the Done Thing - or close enough as makes no difference. Besides, it's nice and relaxing. He leaves off batting at Aqil in favor of just letting the crow play with his fur, trusting he won't mess it up more than it is already.

"But there are mirrors out in the real world," Greta mock-protests, tucking some wayward strands of her own hair back behind her ear. She grins wryly at Aqil's comment, 'dignified' not being a word she would have chosen for the style. It's hardly something a grand lady back home would choose, with their tendencies towards complexity (and an overabundance of curls). But then again, if all Iman typically does with her hair is cover it up, she supposes this could qualify as fancy.

Angus doesn't even lift his head off the sand. "Of course she'll do it," he says drolly. "There are combs and ties in the real world, too. And ribbons."

"Oh, shush." Ribbons, honestly. To Iman, she adds, "I'd be happy to, though. Nothing complicated, but..." she shrugs cheerfully.