Not giving Izaak a chance

Upon their return from the bathhouse, Alora tenderly attended to Magnus, gently drying his hair with a towel. Magnus was comfortably ensconced in a chair, positioned before the ornate dresser, his gaze unwaveringly locked onto Alora's glowing visage.

Her hair, still damp from the bath, had soaked the fabric of her attire around her neck, creating a darker patch that contrasted with the rest of her clothing. A few stray droplets of water had escaped, tracing a shimmering path down her collarbone, catching the light and sparkling like tiny diamonds.

After she had finished, Alora turned to Magnus, her eyes questioning, "Should I comb your hair, or would you prefer to do it?"

Magnus, watching her neatly place the used towel in the laundry basket, responded with a gentle affirmation, "I'll take care of it." He gestured towards the chair, indicating that he would be the one to dry her hair this time.