Let’s pause for a moment from the ongoing political ranting to consider the joys of a day or two’s worth of beard. Just a little scruffle to tickle under your fingers as you run them across a man’s jaw or to scratch against your cheek as you brush your lips against his.
I used to know this guy who had the most magnificent scruffly beard. I’d always could tell just when it was at the perfect prickly stage because he was blond and his face would sparkle when the light hit his cheeks.
I wonder what ever happened to him.
I also wonder if scruffle is really a word.
Ah, well.
When I’m queen, I will send my spies to find this kind of stuff out.
Tiny Cat Pants 
May I audition to be a spy?
I, too, would volunteer my services as a scruffle spy.
I have references.
Mmmm.
Grandefille, you only get to find out if scruffle is a word. You don’t get to go around running your fingers across the scruffly faces of men in my kingdom.
Well, not without a sizeable bribe anyway.
But yes, you both can be spies.