There was just something grasping at Wolf's mind, and he wasn't exactly too sure on what the root of the cause was. Sapphire blue eyes trailed across the room, until his gaze landed straight on the man reading at the kitchen table. Upon further discovery, he'd noticed that a strand of hair...seemed to be out of place from its elastic.
The Swede's digits slowly began to run through the oily locks belonging to the one seated on the stool after approaching him from behind, the elastic wrapped around his wrist. It was undeniable that there was a sulk resting upon Hoxton's facial features, only for a smile to emerge on Ulf's. He knew the ex-convict was not too keen on allowing his hair to be messed with in such a manner, but he already had the brunet locks held in his palm.
"Wolf, what the fuck are you-"
"Can you, um...please keep still for a little longer? I'm almost done."
He interrupted and placed a reassuring kiss to the younger's temple, attempting to coax Hoxton into relaxing. The Brit's observation was returned to the newspaper he'd been holding, a sigh exhaling past his own nostrils. It was not long before Wolf eventually tightened the elastic into place, beaming proudly at his work. It set his mind at ease, sturdy arms moving to wrap around the more delicate form.
"I love you, Hoxtifier."