Mortimer Quincy's eyes were fixed on Holly Winslow. His "little student's" face was flushed, her lips also red—so red that he was getting the urge to kiss her.
His gaze was too intense. Holly Winslow poked him with her finger, signaling for him to tone it down a bit.
Mortimer Quincy raised an eyebrow. He noticed some strands of hair had come loose at the nape of her neck. He folded the safety notice he was holding, tucked it into his pocket, then reached up, pulled out her hair tie, and skillfully redid her hair.
The Dean of Discipline kept glancing over at them.
Even though she hadn't done anything wrong, Holly Winslow started to feel guilty. Unable to stand still, she rubbed her nose and said, "I'm heading down."
Mortimer Quincy reached out and held her back, whispering, "Behave. Just stand here."
Whatever the Dean of Discipline was thinking, she moved a little farther away from them.
Holly Winslow: "..."
