"I miss them," Aramis sighs, which is not to say he does not appreciate Porthos' shorn head, for he does very much - he simply wants all of Porthos, in all possible ways, and all of the time. He takes the opportunity to pull Athos' shirt from his shoulders, tossing it aside without care for wrinkles (the man probably retrieved it from the floor, anyway), and takes his time running his hands up and down Athos' bare arms.

"You were a lithe little thing," he observes. "Porthos thought you quite handsome."