"Your hair-" He says, shaking his head "Needs more attention."

Like oil. Or regular combing- but it is better than that little tuft he used to comb into place back during the Blight. "I suppose there is no time like the present."

There is no pressing business and so long as cheese crumbs do not end up in his hair? It is not so terrible. Zevran reaches back to unbind the current braid, shaking it loose- he has not had time to trim it yet, leaving the slightly waved mass falling to mid back. Mm. "I may be due another oiling."