[†]Leviticus 14:9
But it shall be on the seventh day, that he shall shave all his hair off his head and his beard and his eyebrows, even all his hair he shall shave off: and he shall wash his clothes, also he shall wash his flesh in water, and he shall be clean.[†]
[☨]God if it were only that easy for one as stubborn as him. Maxwell hadn't
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[Well, while the gender was a bit on the ambiguous side over the voice function, at least the English breeding was clear]
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I've made do with what I have which is nothing, grazie!
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If I can maintain a good upkeep, so can you. Obviously you just need a few pointers.
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[Is that pink staining? Yes it is. He never had any intention of letting it get this far!]
That certainly is not the case! There is only so much I can work with, with meager dish-soap and a broken-toothed comb, sig..nor..ina..?
[That voice is just ambiguous enough to fool him into a state of bemusement.]
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[He's been wanting to ask this for quite awhile, considering the sermons he now and then hears on the network.]
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[Father Anderson was usually the only speaker unless his Archbishop was feeling so inclined...]
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...... [This is a hesitation, and a long one at that.]
If the services are open, I may wish to attend.
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Dinna ye fret. Ah'd nae turn ye away.
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He reached, tentatively, for the dragging ends of unkempt finely spun gold, gently smoothing between his fingertips.]
Archbishop...Dae ye need assistance?
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I could use an extra hand... so long as you don't make any penalizing suggestions.
[God knew how many times the little boy had run away squealing from Anderson while a pair of scissors gleamed in his hands like that bayonets he carried now.]
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[At first, when young Maxwell had established his desire to keep his fair-flowing locks the Priest guffawed, having thought the very notion silly..A child's fancy. Yet, now, as he gazed upon the lovely cascading mane, he had to admit he was rather fond of it. And so, when he took the comb from the Italian's dagger-tipped retractiles he teased the very end through the middle of the tangle, working at the knot without pulling.]
Et's gotten sae lang. Ah think...Ef ye'd let me braid et, ye woul' nae 'ave as mooch trouble wit' those snarls, ye ken?
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YOU ARE DOING IT WRONG, ANDERSON. Also, yes, Grell only exists to ruin all that is touching and sweet.
There isn't even a warning, the death god simply bangs open the door and is hunting around for the walking talking hair related calamity that is Enrico]
... In the baptismal pool? Really?
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