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The brush snags in his hair and Aay'han goes to throw it at the wall before the rage subsides quickly as it came and he sets it stiffly at his side, muffling a sob in knees pulled up to his chest. Guilt pulses behind his eyes at the idea of damaging the Senator's gift, and grief for the advice she'd given him besides, and the styles that were easier with a second pair of hands that she'd shown Ruusaan, and-
"Hey 'han'ika," a voice says gently and without looking he curls against Rayshe’a, bawling into his side as a careful hand rubs his back.
"Feel any better?" his ori'vod asks what feels like hours and moments later, and though his eyes ache in a face taut with dried tears, he realizes he does.
"Yeah," he says quietly, offering a tentative smile.
"Good," the ARC grins, reaching to muss his hair before making a face and drawing back. "Here," he says, grabbing the brush, let me help."
"Rayshe’a, no, not my hair-"
The faint cry draws Ahsoka's attention, steps faltering from the near-automatic return route to her quarters. Peering around the corner, she finds Fives and Tup pressed into the alcove halfway between the barracks and 'fresher. She knows it well (it's one of the best places to get into the vents), but all her familiarity with the Resolute's greatest hiding spots fails to explain why the ARC's fingers are tangled in his vod's hair.
"Help," Tup says quietly when he sees her, almost desperate as Fives tries and fails to extricate himself.
Brow raised, she gestures pointedly at her lekku and montrals, and the two of them sag in disappointment, the younger letting out a resigned whine as the movement tugs at his caught hair.
A thought comes to her and she grins brightly, running off with little more than a, "Be right back!" tossed over her shoulder. Last she heard of Anakin he was near the aft lounge and so she leans into their bond, trusting in the echo of his mind against hers to lead her- She skids to a stop, reflexes bringing her back to herself barely in time to avoid colliding with Rex.
"Mirsh'ika," he smiles fondly, bumping his plastoid-free arm against hers in greeting.
She presses back, head tilted consideringly. He seems in strangely good spirits, his Force signature almost singing with satisfaction, but she sets the thought aside for the moment; right now, Ahsoka Tano is a Padawn on a mission. "Have you seen Anakin?" He nods towards the training room he's just left and she darts inside, grabbing Anakin's arm where he stands staring at his lightsaber in bemusement.
"C'mon Skyguy, need your help with something. You too Rex," she adds, tugging the Captain along as she drags her Master back down the hall.
Aay'han looks up as footsteps thunder near to see Mirshka dragging the General over, Ve'vut following more calmly with a look of fond amusement on his face.
"Thank the stars," he hears from behind him, "could you do something with this? I'm pretty much useless here."
"What?" their General asks, shaking himself from a daze. "Yeah, of course." He takes Rayshe'a's place kneeling at his back, his brother finally having reclaimed his digits, and begins teasing out the snags in his curls with remarkable ease.
". . . Sir?" Aay'han ventures as locks are sectioned off to braid. "How'd you learn to do hair?"
"Well, uh," the halting explanation comes. "My hair was long-ish when I was a kid? Then I became a Padawn and kept it real short 'cept for the braid, so when I was Knighted I figured I'd let it grow? Haven't gotten the chance to let it get much longer'n this but I learned a few styles anyway for fun."
With the voice at his back, he watches the looks exchanged in silent conversation between Ve'vut and Mirshka, complete with flicked glances and raised eyebrows. It ends with the Captain giving their Gedin'la Jetii his "respectfully, sir, karking bantha-osik" look and-
Well, it's also known among the vode of Torrent as the "not mad, just disappointed" look and dreading the day that expression is directed at him, he decides he'd rather not know.