[She thinks, for a second, that that's it. He's going to turn and leave. She wouldn't be surprised - she'd been surprised when he signed up for SEC in the first place. Maybe part of her had always expected this, but put it off, tried to give him as much room as possible to figure it out himself.
Only he doesn't leave. He crosses the room and throws himself into the chair with enough force that it skids back against her legs slightly. Looking down at his head, she has to wonder if he's done it out of actual acceptance of the situation or to belligerently meet the challenge.
It's not a challenge. It's a punishment. She turns to pick up the scissors, giving no further comment or warning (or room for hesitation) as she sections out a chunk of his hair, gripping the length in one hand as she cuts through it half an inch from his scalp.
The half an inch that's left won't matter. She'll be shaving it off in a minute.]
no subject
Only he doesn't leave. He crosses the room and throws himself into the chair with enough force that it skids back against her legs slightly. Looking down at his head, she has to wonder if he's done it out of actual acceptance of the situation or to belligerently meet the challenge.
It's not a challenge. It's a punishment. She turns to pick up the scissors, giving no further comment or warning (or room for hesitation) as she sections out a chunk of his hair, gripping the length in one hand as she cuts through it half an inch from his scalp.
The half an inch that's left won't matter. She'll be shaving it off in a minute.]