"Wha-..?"

The sudden, new voice nearly startled the man. It being so close, with its keeper looking directly at Cledwynn's hair, he could only naturally assume that the person who said it was talking to him.

Upon hearing it, he turned to look to the speaker. It was the girl that had been initially chatting with the bartender.. had he interrupted their conversation? From a distance, it seemed like the bartender was managing talking to multiple people just fine, but now it didn't seem that way. Still, if there were a problem, wouldn't this girl have said something?

Speaking of saying something, didn't she just talk to him? The concept of what she had said, for a moment, had initially figuratively bounced right off of him with the intensity of a small child rebounding off of a spring mattress after someone heavier jumps onto it, with the child, of course, surviving, since most people aren't monstrous enough to do that with the intent of harming a child, much like in Cledwynn's case, he wouldn't let this notion fly away from him completely- that is to say, in short, he eventually stopped being so infatuated with the cataclysmic constructs of his carried-over-mind and remembered to give the new speaker his attention.

Though, addressing what she said.. it was getting more difficult to respond to what he realized, now, was a compliment. It wasn't that he didn't know how to respond to compliments.

It was just that, given his past(s), and how little time he'd spent with others due to how utterly repulsive he once was, he was never given compliments.

So yeah- he didn't know how to respond to them. That point was exemplified in his current life as well, given that his hair only vaguely resembled a regular, human hair-like shape- it looked more like a slow-flowing goo. 'Sludge' could have been an appropriate term to describe it, and normally Cledwynn would have elaborated on it with such a word, but with a term like that comes the notion and connotation that his hair, through assumption from the word 'sludge', would smell and/or taste bad. And while tasting hair was a very niche thing to do, smelling it- or, rather, coming into the scent of it by natural 'accident'- was not so niche as the former counterpart.

Then again, perhaps it was only niche because no one had tried it. Hair could, perhaps, taste rather swell. He briefly thought about elaborating on this, but knew he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Finally finding the appropriate wording, albeit seeming the smallest bit bashful about having being complimented since he was now slightly tugging at the sleeve of his clothing.

"Ehm, well, thank you..! That's very nice of you to say, especially given its.. somewhat amorphous look."

He certainly wasn't wrong. The hair of his almost looked sentient, like it would start forming shapes at the snap of a finger. 

Though maybe that was why she enjoyed it so? Honestly, Cledwynn internally hoped that this was the case. What he also hoped for, though, was that he could start perhaps an intellectual conversation with her- and perhaps the bartender too, since they shared words only moments before.