For a moment he's not sure if she gave it to him. His brow furrows as he tries to remember. Sweeney rubs small circles with his thumb over the tip of two fingers, like he's trying to pull up the shape. He's half-surprised when he does and it manifests.

He offers it to her. "Sec," he requests, having nestled his cigarette between his lips to free his other hand. It produces a fine-tooth ivory comb far easier. He presents it to her as well.

"Save us both the struggle."