It was one of the few times my mother wasn't critical of me, when she'd wash and brush my hair. [She snorts a laugh, soft and wry.] She meant well. I know that now, but at the time...

[She lifts a shoulder and finishes rinsing the lather out of Sabriel's hair, smoothing her fingers along the wet mass of it before pouring a measure of conditioner into her palm.]

That would suit you well, I think. Something angular, a little longer in the front than the back. Very elegant.