Biba sits silently, his fingers running through your hair. It's not in a way of affection, with the way he seems to tug at the strands in displeasure.

"You need to cut your hair shorter." Biba murmurs into your ear. It falls down to your knees by now, and, Biba isn't pleased by that. More over, he seems jealous in a way.

"Someone could grab you by the hair and pull you. You could die this way, you know?" He says, fingers clenching a handful of your hair as he yanks your head back, staring.