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Hazel Boon squinted as sunlight flashed in her eyes, a free hand reaching up to rub at the grimy surface of the mirror she held steady with her other hand.
After a few more swipes, she held it back at length. The mismatched eyes of the woman staring back at her was dotted still with small specks of dirt, stubborn against the square of gray cloth she used. Miss Boon sighed in resignation.
"It's better than nothing," she muttered, placing the mirror down on a tree stump and against a block of stones that served as a makeshift perch.
She stooped down, picking up the short length of a razor-sharp blade. From beyond the line of trees sounded a yelp that must have belonged to Max, no doubt directed towards his lymrill.
He must have evaded Max and gone off hunting for rats again, she thought with mild amusement.
And then she frowned. Max doesn't sound annoyed - he must be using this moment as an opportunity to part with the geometry problems she gave him and David to solve.
"That looks sharp."
Miss Boon whirled around to face the agent standing across, leaning against the trunk of an elm. She huffed, steadying the startled thumping on her chest as she raised the blade to catch the sunlight.
"You would know about sharp objects, wouldn't you?"
Cooper grunted, eyeing the blade with mild curiosity. "Looted it?"
Miss Boon shrugged nonchalantly as she faced the mirror, her other hand reaching up to tug at strands of hair. "The captain of the Erasmus would need another way to shave off his stubble. It might come in handy if we come across. . . undesirable companions again."
There was a sharp wheeze of laughter, promptly earning a sidelong glare from the instructor.
"Not all people meet witches every day, Cooper," she said curtly, thinking back to the witch who nearly captured them on Rowan’s grounds, if not for the quick movements of the Red Branch agent. Unamused eyes stared back at the mirror as she pinched a particularly long lock of hair between her fingers.
"You are a teacher, Miss Boon," the agent replied, "I should have remembered that."
Miss Boon sliced through the lock of hair, chestnut brown strands fluttering down to the gray cloth now spread on her lap. As the blade cut through the last strand, she spoke.
"You might as well insult me to my face if the ones you say are as thinly-veiled as that."
The instructor missed the thin smile that passed through the agent's scarred face, disappearing as quickly as it came.
"I understand you don't have practice with dealing with them up close and personal," he replied.
Miss Boon blinked at her reflection on the mirror as she sliced through another lock of hair, recognizing the soft tone as an apology of sorts, a truce.
"Well," she said after a moment, tone equally soft but still holding that stubborn note, "the Rowan Compendium of Known Enemies don't necessarily come with life-sized figurines, you know."
This time, she glanced up just as Cooper gave out another short huff in amusement. Miss Boon cracked a smile of her own before looking back down at the mirror.
"Why are you keeping it short?" Cooper asked as he watched her swivel her head to survey her handiwork.
"It's easier to manage, as I’m sure you know." she replied, angling her head to the left and wincing at the strands sticking to the sweat on her neck, "Long hair requires a lot of time and dedication. It's simply not practical."
The agent tilted his head. For a fleeting moment, he envisioned her with longer hair, brown waves reaching past her shoulders. It would look nice, not a bad look at all, but the practicality of short hair does match the prim and practical nature of the Mystics instructor.
For several heartbeats, he watched her struggle to slice off a lock of hair on the right side of her head, her left hand fumbling as her dominant right hand held the blade aloft.
"A knife will be easier," he stated, earning him her attention as she fixed him with her mismatched eyes.
"I don't suppose you have another knife aside from the kris, then?" she asked, "I mean no insult, but I don't think that blade is meant to slice off hair at all."
Cooper's hand drifted past the wavy blade of the kris strapped to his back and towards his left elbow.
"Agents are always prepared, Miss Boon," he replied, reaching up to pull a dagger strapped to his upper arm.
Miss Boon brushed off the barb with a nonchalant roll of her eyes, holding her hand expectantly as he moved closer.
He handed her the dagger, warm fingertips brushing his as her hands closed around the handle.
She held it up silently, her eyes - one blue, and one brown - watching with mild interest as the sunlight glinted off the well-oiled blade.
“Do the cookbooks not come with life-sized knives, too?”
The Mystics instructor promptly scoffed, eyes flashing as she glanced at him. “Oh, do shut up, William.”
The agent gave her a thin, satisfied grin as he stood close, watching her handle the dagger with care as she continued slicing off inches of brown hair.
Beyond the few rows of trees, he could register startled cries from David and Mr. McDaniels, and a gleeful cackle that could only belong to Mum. Her eyes found his on the mirror, shining with amusement.