Gukb shrugged. If he was going to die, then he figured he may as well die handsome; the lonesome road was becoming increasingly tiring, after all.

"Ah, very well," Gukb sighed, and climbed onto the chair. It was a slight large for him, but he did his best to sit straight. His reflection in the mirror opposite make him gasp. "That what I look like? By Helm's balls!"

The he-bastard had seemed dismissive of the goblin's less than savoury purpose in Estermere. Gukb guessed this sympathy came from somewhere, perhaps the man had lived a similar life to his at some point? Not that it mattered, in any case. 

With a grunt, he moved to answer the question - though his eyes never left the reflection of the barber's hands. "Heard me many a tale, has old Gukb. Most of 'em involvin' heroic types," he nodded at the barber in the mirror, "ya kna, men in clunky shining armour goin's 'round and killin' everythin' that ain't got peachy tits or a pretty face." 

As Gukb finished speaking, he let himself lean back into the chair. He was ready to move a moment's notice, though he doubted he'd be quick enough to escape an ill stroke of a razor already pressed up against his skin. The shears too, could probably give the back of his narrow neck a fatal wound if the human willed it. Though for some reason, Gukb felt that this was not going to be the case; there was a kindness in that man's eyes, and it reminded him of the preists of Helm who had saved him. The girl too. 

"'Ow's 'bout yer? Heard anythin' that might be worth a tip or two?" asked Gukb, though in truth he was not sure if the ten copper pieces were enough to pay for the barber's services, let alone a tip.