"You're making the hair work." The voice comes from well above and to her right. Taako's taken to hauling himself up into trees, mostly out of boredom, a little out of paranoia. Without anyone here he trusts or any defenses from magic, without even a way to check out his surroundings with anything more useful than his own eyes and ears, being a little harder to get at seems prudent.

The compliment is at least a sincere one, and clearly heartfelt, given his own hair is three feet long even braided and hanging over one shoulder, and the lack of tending is already bugging him. The texture has never been what you'd call cooperative. It's long enough that the weight alone takes care of some of its more bizarre tricks, but no matter what he tries, little curls and cowlicks are escaping. It can only get worse.