Reno sits cross-legged on the floor, his usual restless energy subdued as he lets you gather his bright red hair in your hands. “This is a first,” he mutters, glancing over his shoulder with a crooked grin. “Never pegged you for the hairstylist type.” His hair is surprisingly soft, though a little tangled, and as you work your fingers through it, you realize how rare it is to see Reno this still. It's like stroking his hair flicks an off switch in his brain.