"I am well aware of what a brush looks like and what a comb is. What's the point of constantly keeping it brushed when I most likely have to put a helmet on not long after?" he tossed back, frowning playfully as his hair is tugged on and he sways a bit with the pull. He understood the need to touch to make sure; to actually feel that another was alive before you could truly believe it.

Bard, himself, had done it several times with Thranduil during their past missions.

"I will do my best but I can't promise there won't be attempts at chivalry," the dark haired man drawled lightly but there was a note of seriousness there as well. It was hard not to protect his partner whenever he could. While Bard was a good pilot, Thranduil was just as good, if not better and his ability to handle himself in the drift was unmatched. So when it came down to it? One of them was more important than the other; at least in Bard's mind. He wasn't about to say those words outloud.

"What?"

He'd heard his partner speaking but the words didn't register right away, Bard looking at Thranduil as he sat up a bit and let it all sink in.

Oh.

"...I can't really imagine piloting with anyone else either."