With a couple of strokes of his hand, he brushes off his hair to one side, and then the other– styling his bangs to an asymmetrical arrangement as he gazes into the bathroom mirror. Front view, no problems there. Lips pursed in thought, his hand stops to pinch a lock of his hair behind his ear, examining its ends.
A noiseless sigh escapes his lips, his breath leaving the faintest traces of a fog on the glassy surface, and he withdraws to fully face his mirror image. And as he tilts his head slightly, a corner of his lips seems to tug itself up in satisfaction.
“… Not bad…”
