Barcus is one of the majority of deep gnomes who simply don't grow hair on their heads. It's especially common among males, although there are certainly a few with luxurious flowing snowy locks. He thinks that's unwise, for working purposes. Either they'll get singed in the forge or caught in a machine. Seems like a hindrance.

Baldness is just practical. Anyway, he doesn't quite read Solas' gesture as vanity, just general insecurity, and so he gives into the impulse to put a small hand on his shoulder. Small, but strong, and hopefully grounding.

"I'm sure. I wasn't entirely expecting mine, either." He squeezes his shoulder gently, hesitates a long moment and then asks:

"Was it the only way? To end the war?"