Raju's gaze follows Francis' fingers, frown twitching at the corners of his mouth as his attention's drawn down to the medals. "I'll grow it out again and you can shave it after," he tries, attention still drawn by Francis' exploration, in spite of himself. "Then we'll be even."

He's quiet a moment, looking down at himself. Then he sighs, tugging straight the already-straight jacket. "It feels strange," he confesses, quietly. "Wearing this, I feel like I should be taking orders from someone." He hears what he's just said, and the frown spreads to his eyebrows, deepens at his mouth. His fingers curl, thumbs trying to rub against them before they tighten into fists. He wishes he could take the words back. But they're true.