Padparadscha's hair is indeed A Lot--rather magnificently so. Antarcticite has never been overly concerned with appearances, in part because they do infrequently had company against whom to compare themselves. Still, it's difficult not to feel a bit lacklustre and uninspiring when standing next to one of the most competent and dazzling warriors among the lustrous.

They follow Padparadscha back to the Dreaming Bridge in pensive, introspective silence, and almost don't realize it when they stop and Padparadscha gives them those instructions. Antarcticite blinks once, then looks down at the spotty coverage their arms are offered by their remaining powder. "Ah, all right," they agree, they turn to head into the bathroom.

It's empty within, mercifully, but they still find themselves standing stiffly in front of on of the mirrors, tugging at their still damp uniform. It's one thing to have Adamant or Rutile cover them with powder or resin, but quite another to be so exposed in front of a gem of Padparadscha's calibre.