Eleven grimaced to see the liquid greased further into the man's hair, but relinquished the towel and surmised that at least it didn't appear to be harmful.

"Sparring," he volunteered in answer. "Swordplay, mostly."

He turned critical eyes over the mess, only to linger again on the man's head. He blinked.

"...Er. Your hair is.. turning purple, a bit."