"... Haircut."

The dumbstruck counter's three for three, and while Rory hasn't passed out, nor has he caught up. Leon popping up on the network was enough confusion for one month — he'd already gone through all the emotions (shock, confusion, dread, ?excitement?, anxiety, and an immense and unshakeable horniness). Maybe that's why they all play out on his face, a split second for each. And maybe for someone else it would've meant he's prepared to deal with such a situation better than he otherwise is.

But it has been ten years, and a quick scan gives him information he didn't ask for (but maybe he wanted to know nonetheless): eyes, still that bright blue; jaw, still square; shoulders, still broad but buddy's been hitting the gym. The voice he'd– well, we're not going to talk about that right now.

Is he staring? He can't tell. But he's already blurted out bullshit he didn't mean to so he tries again before anyone can ask him for clarification, because actually, he doesn't want to be looked at. Don't perceive him right now, for the love of god, please. "He... got a haircut." NO SHIT, FAIRFAX? IT'S BEEN A DECADE.