Cross wore her usual modified instructor uniform, the blazer tied below her chest like she'd given up on buttons entirely, paired with a tight pencil skirt that ended mid-thigh and fishnet stockings that should have been illegal in an educational setting.
Her long purple hair fell loose around her shoulders, and her violet eyes scanned the room with the kind of knowing amusement that said she was fully aware of the effect she had on people.
She set her tablet on the desk and turned to face us, one hip cocked, lips painted deep red and curved in a smile that promised she knew exactly what we were all thinking.
"Good morning class," she said warmly. "Ready to learn how not to die horribly in your first gate?"
Jordan's head came up off the desk so fast I heard his neck crack.
