[Considering the sheer mortification some of her run ins with Dimitri have snowballed into, as of late, Bernadetta is temporarily immune to the inherent, knee-jerk embarrassment she ought to be feeling over a handsome, dubiously eligible bachelor perched on her bed.

Bernadetta rummages around in her desk and comes out with a pair of heavy silver sewing scissors, murky with age but freshly sharpened.]

Well, nobody's shoving me in a sack to get me from Point A to Point B, these days. I guess I have.

[She leans in and begins finger-combing his hair into a more workable style.]

Do you want to leave your bangs as they are?