Lex had missed the memo that they were stopping, but he managed to catch himself when he accidentally grabbed her leg. He sat back on his legs, craning his neck down to fit. He felt Blue turn against him for a moment before she grabbed his hand and placed her single hairband in it. He closed his hand around it and held it up to her in a mock salute. “You’re a goddamn hero,” he told her, frantically combing his hair back into a messy bun.<br/><br/>The question gave him pause. People asked questions about his eyes all the time, and he was used to it at this point. He didn’t<span style="font-style: italic">answer</span>them, of course, but he was used to the questions. They were generally pretty absurd. Did he still have to blink? Could he see his dreams? How did he manage not to run into everything? Like he was some sort of mouthpiece for blind survivors everywhere. This was a more direct and pointed question though, and he couldn’t see any way or reason to avoid answering it.<br/><br/>“Well, you’re short,” he pointed out. He’d gathered that when she clambered past him in the vent. “Slim. You obviously have long hair. Probably no calluses or scars to speak of, because you<span style="font-style: italic">probably</span>look like you haven’t seen a day of work in your life. Am I warm?”