"What's wrong?" he asked, glancing at the frustrated sound his companion made.
"I can't find my conditioner."
"Conditioner. For my hair," she clarified.
"Yes, I know what conditioner is. We can pick some up next stop."
"Well, that's fine, except I need it to keep my hair in check."
He regarded her, noticing for the first time her hair did look a little more unkempt than usual.
"Oh well, easily fixed," he said. "Where's your comb?"
She held it out to him and he took it, gesturing for her to sit. She hesitated, only for a moment before she sat on the floor in front of his seat without question.
Her hair was surprisingly thick. At a glance, it looked very fine and thin, but now that he was touching it, running a comb through it, for the first time he realized that looks were deceiving in this case.
She grimaced a couple of times as he made his way through a snarl here, a tangle there. Mostly, though she was quiet. Soon it was smooth as silk. He ran his fingers through it just to be sure he didn't miss any. He heard the small sound she made at his touch, felt his hearts skip a beat.
And with that small sound and skipped beat, heard the satisfied reverberations the TARDIS made. He wondered now if there was a reason she couldn't find the conditioner in question.
"Have I mentioned," he asked, watching as her hair slid without hesitation through his fingertips. He could get used to doing this. "That I've always wanted to be ginger?"