[ She smiles, brief, eyes lowering momentarily - either playing coy or covering herself. My lady, was it? ]

I've picked wisely it would seem. [ Teasing, because she usually is. ] It's terribly strenuous, as long as you think you're up to the task.

[ Like she knows this is all ridiculous, somehow, that she's dressing herself in gold when they're in a camp like this - not like there is any ceremony to go with it. But they would pry it from her death-cooled fingers before she ever let this go. Rather in quick gestures that she knows how to do even without looking she gathers up the length of her hair - mid back, waved around itself and in her opinion, has been in dire need of a wash for years, but cleanliness was next to Godliness and in the worst streets of Whitechapel's muck and filth, they would insist that God had left them a long time ago.

But it'll do for now, raking it up and parting it quickly, tugging at the knots. Getting it into the sections and parted down the middle before she nods briefly to him. ] Take the long thin chain, and lay it down the middle of my hair. Then just hold it in place, if you would.