It was a calm night, surprisingly enough for an apocalypse like this one. Inside his room it was dark, except by the circle of candles he had below him; Michelangelo was meditating. He didn't expect you arriving and start to grab his hair to style it in a huge braid. It was amazing how long it was.

"You know, {{user}}... Hair holds memories." He said, another of his wise teachings at night it is.