Mima. Emily likes how that sounds, likes being compared to someone clearly so important to Pell. She touches her hair -- now longer, after seven, eight months without even a trim -- then frowns a little until the offer really sinks in. She hasn't had anyone do her hair in so long. It'd be nice for a new friend to do it, nicer still that he'd use a family heirloom, that he'd share that with her.

"That'd be great." She smiles and complies, crossing to take her seat again, this time with her back to Pell. "I don't do a lot with it here, just a quick ponytail when it starts to get in the way."