He scratched at his stubble even as he noticed her subtle retreat from him. Gendry scarcely understood her in that moment, but he supposed Sansa would always be a flighty sort of creature. However comfortable she might be beside him, it was not meant to last.

"I don't have a brush," he said with a mild shrug of his shoulders. The one arm that had been nearly locked with hers was now rotated freely. He ran a hand through his messy hair. "I ain't got much need for one. It ain't so long as to need it."

As for shaving! Well, he did that blindly and very sporadically. It was not uncommon for him to leave patches of unshaved skin and the small beard he kept on his chin was ever uneven.