"Perhaps."

"Thank you, Anuriel. I'm sure we'll both keep that in mind." Sephiroth replied to the woman's invitation. When she left, the two turned to each other.

"I wouldn't bargain you hair away if you truly don't want to spend the effort to cut it." T'vor advised.

Sephiroth smirked, then scooped up the dragonlets. "I hear noise outside. Shall we go see?" He asked rhetorically, standing. T'vor followed suit. "It sounds like she's doing quite a number on those fluffy-winged slackers." T'vor noted. The two of them made their way past tents and uphill to observe the training exercise. There were feathers everywhere.
"And they call themselves fighters--they're molting everywhere." T'vor commented to Sephiroth.
"Oh, you mean like me."
"Granted, yours is a rather unique position. I'd have a hard time trying to keep my wings groomed if they were [i]that[/i] big."
"Thanks for the consideration."
"No charge." T'vor spotted Damien.
"Does he know about the dragons?"
"I don't think so." Sephiroth replied.
"Hm, well, let's not distract from the goings-on."
"I think your face is enough of a distraction already. Or lack of one." Sephiroth rapped the other man's helm.
"There's uglier faces."
"Oh, I don't know about that, T'vor. Yours is pretty high on the list."
"So's yours."
Sephiroth chuckled at that.