"That's... actually uncharacteristically neat of him." Phoenix imagines the strands all tied up in blue ribbons. Or pink ones. Or even labelled with something misleading. Like the genderswitch potion, which Phoenix hasn't forgotten and will never let Older Alec forget either.

He wants to pick up something to fidget with it, but the desk he's leaning against is bare, and Alec's desk is probably vagually hazardous.

"What you looking for?"