Vlast considers this. His face doesn't grow hair, but he hasn't exactly made an effort on that front either.
“I see. It would very messy when you eat.”
He can think of a few things less pleasant than gore and viscera from a kill lingering in a mustache, but not many.
Vlast turns from Benedict, but only briefly to crack open the trunk at the end of the bed. There's not much in there – basic toiletries, a comb with a few strands of silvery hair clinging to its teeth, a change of clothes, some of his crude scrimshaw, and medical supplies. It's from the latter stash that he selects a small pot of ointment and kneels next to him, offering the poultice.
“It helps. With the pain.”
He may not have been there for the below the chin part but there's more than enough residual redness for Vlast to think that the whole thing looks overly painful.
no subject
“I see. It would very messy when you eat.”
He can think of a few things less pleasant than gore and viscera from a kill lingering in a mustache, but not many.
Vlast turns from Benedict, but only briefly to crack open the trunk at the end of the bed. There's not much in there – basic toiletries, a comb with a few strands of silvery hair clinging to its teeth, a change of clothes, some of his crude scrimshaw, and medical supplies. It's from the latter stash that he selects a small pot of ointment and kneels next to him, offering the poultice.
“It helps. With the pain.”
He may not have been there for the below the chin part but there's more than enough residual redness for Vlast to think that the whole thing looks overly painful.