[Every time Kratos stirs he has Yuan's attention, but little comes of it save for Kratos shifting slightly toward Yuan. A good sign, maybe. If nothing else, Yuan is the most familiar thing here. When Kratos stirs this time Yuan almost thinks he's going to go back to sleep again, but then--]

[The bleary not-quite thought. Of all the things. Fifteen years of torture, his son practically right beside him, and what Kratos chooses to focus on is Yuan's hair.]

[Yuan laughs all unconsciously, and then finds he can't stop, relief paving the way for something closer to hysteria than genuine laughter. It isn't even that funny, not really. And yet.]

[It takes some moments to get himself under control, till finally he can even out his breath, take one long deep one, and settle. He thinks his answer rather than chance speaking yet, though.]

[It was distinctive, and I was on the run. I cut it.]

[And dyed, but that should go without saying, since the faintly-singed braid is black. It wouldn't fool anyone who knew him, really, but for people only looking for a half-elf with long blue hair... After a few years it had stopped seeming strange, but Yuan does miss it.]