She knew he did. He trusted her with his life. Had on multiple occasions left his life in her hands. And she'd done whatever she had to in order to help, even occasionally putting her own in danger. That was the way they worked. Maybe most couples didn't have to live that way, but in their adult lives, it was all she knew. She would do anything for him and he knew it, and it worked both ways.
So hair? She could do hair. There was time for it to grow out if it went terribly. Which she doubted it would. Though this was the man she slept with nightly, was intimate with often, and had seen shirtless on many occasions, she still watched that flash of skin as he fought with his shirt. Sure, she could have helped. But where was the fun in that for her? She bit her lip, eyeing him, and smiling when he finally sat. Her hand rested on the back of his neck and when he tilted back to look at her, she placed a kiss on his forehead. "That's good to know," she commented idly, running her fingers through the ends of his hair as she gauged how much to cut and where.