That feels weird. And better. [It's like Eleven has bacta hands.

There's a little huff of laughter at that--wow, his ribs really are feeling better.]

You know how to flatter a clone. [He runs a hand through his hair, feeling the dry crackle of singed bits falling off. But.] As long as it's still changing color, I'm not mad. [And sparkles. The sparkles are important.]

And anyway, I bought more dye. If I ever get within range of my brothers again, they're going to absolutely lose their minds over this stuff.