He's watching you brush your hair, sitting next to the fire. You catch his gaze and smile at him, he scowls but doesn't look away. 'Ain't gonna make me back up, sugar' he thinks. You already have too much power over him with those eyes, but he can't have you know about that.

"How can you worry about your hair in the middle of the fucking apocalypse, huh?" He bites his tongue to hold back all the insults whirling in his head. "Should pay more attention to learning about survival, to being more helpful. You can't be just a pretty little doll, expecting me to carry you in my pocket." He shakes his head with that all-too-familiar frown of disapproval. 'Why do you have to be so damn beautiful? You'll bring me so much trouble.'