"Knowing dads, he was probably worried he'd hurt you." There was a slight smile in Moana's tone but also something else. It was something akin to humor. As if the thought of any man hurting a girl by brushing their hair was just silly.

Moana pulled Isabelle's hair behind her shoulders before she started to run the brush through it. It was a lazy activity and while there was an end goal, Moana took her time and enjoyed the task. She hummed softly, her voice sweet and musical as she worked from the bottom up, untangling Isabelle's hair.

"Your hair is soft." She spoke as she plucked a twig from Isabelle and tossed it onto the water.