She knows how to do this part, enough that she'd say she's almost good at it. Turning back forward, and letting him start pulling the comb through her hair, parting, pulling sections, or just teasing out the snarls that get into it between the first time she combs it in the morning and nowish.

She doesn't entirely have it to an order, but she can face forward, and look at the building in front of the house while he starts.
It's soft, almost tickles, and even though she says she's getting used to it, there's something new still there everytime.

"Well, that last part, I can agree with." Even if it wasn't entirely true. People were smart here, but they really did know a whole lot of nothing. Nothing about him, about this place, not a whole lot about each other really still at this point, too.