[Kratos honestly hadn't been sure Yuan had heard his own words earlier, he'd said it so low, and under the sound of the shower running. But the admission now -- and it is an admission -- cuts off any cutting response Kratos might have had, and he smiles down at his hands on his lap.]

At the least I can be sure to come up with something new for you.

[Having his hair braided for him is less nostalgically alien than the first time around; still full of hard emotional edges only because it's been so long since they've been so familiar with each other. Yet it is familiar, softening all the time. Softening a bit less when Yuan gets near to finishing the braid and Kratos realises it's a crown, but even that holds its own fondness with the exasperation; their friendship began turbulently, after all, and has never been any other way.

[But once Kratos's hair is done he's tired, and the effects of the steam from the hot shower begin wearing off, and his throat starts feeling dry again. He goes back to bed after that, dozing nearly the whole day and night away, but far less restive and congested than the day before. He very nearly feels safe.]