Mal let Evie brush her hair, the ornate tool of cheap plastic pulling matted tangles apart into coarse waves with gentle movements. She closed her eyes against a patched and leaky ceiling, focusing on the press of Evie's legs against her back, breathing easier with every freed strand of hair.
:::
"Fields of Asphodel and Pits of Tartarus!" Jay screamed through clenched teeth. Mal allowed him to curl around his newly relocated shoulder, muscles and tendons in his neck still straining.
Mal didn't apologize. Just brushed a hand over his hair and denied her prayers for the worst to pass quickly.