Clearly it was going to be dangerous to be left alone with Malcolm. Raylan's heartrate skipped and jumped as Malcolm reached out and played with his hair, lips curling along the edges as his free itched to wrap around the smaller man and draw him back in.

Shit. It felt like, if he hadn't turned into a deviant, he was just desperate, to not be able to more easily quell the need, the want. But there was no argument to the touching, just his hazel eyes shifting a shade darker for the touch.

"I'll let you. If you find some scissors. Do whatever you want. It all grows back, anyway. 'Sides, you've paid more for better haircuts than I ever will, I'm sure you know what one looks like." He was lucky he had hat on, otherwise, he'd start raking his fingers through it.