Tech braids Hunter’s hair all the way down in 2.57 seconds flat. He buries his fingers in the top of the braid and drags it out. He braids it in 3.01 seconds and drags it out. He braids it in 2.54 seconds and drags it out. He braids it in 2.70 seconds and drags it out.
He braids it drags it out.
Braids it drags it out.
Braid, out. Braid, out. Braid, out.
Braid, out—
“Ow. Tech, be gentle,” Hunter hisses, batting at his hands.
“Sorry, sorry. Just…”
“Anxious, I know,” Hunter says, taking Tech’s hands in his and pulling them over his shoulders. Tech has to lean forward to follow him, seated as he is on the bench with his legs over Hunter’s shoulders. Hunter’s cross-legged on the floor reading. “We’ll be fine. Everything’s going to be alright.”
“Hmm.” In twelve minutes, they’ll be told the results of their exams. Whether or not Tech and Hunter are ready to take the field. Crosshair and Wrecker have yet to take the exams and likely won’t for another fortnight at least.
Tech’s not sure which result would be worst, so he tries not to hope for either. He doesn’t want to fail, but to be separated from the other two…
Hunter releases his hands. “Try the fishtail braid again. Remember not to take too much hair at once, or it’ll get sloppy.”
Tech breathes in. Breathes out. Gathers Hunter’s hair into two bunches. “Right, I know. I know. Small pieces.”