She entered the dank, badly-lit cave like a queen arriving at a cotillion. A flouncy, girlish twirl, and her newly cropped hair swung around her face in a neat arc. The smile on her face was cocky, and she stood in the cave's opening with her hands on her hips.
"Well, what do you think?" she asked cheerfully.
Kamdor was perched atop a rock, (the closest approximation to "furniture" that their dwelling contained) thoughtfully stroking the blade of his sword. He glanced up when he heard his female cohort's voice, and had he been capable of producing facial expressions, his would have been one of stark indifference.
"About what?"
Miratrix rolled her eyes.
"I should have known you wouldn't even notice."
"Noticing and caring are two different things. I certainly noticed what happened to your head."
"Why, you old romantic," Miratrix said irritably. "Well, do you like it?"
"Do I like what?"
"My hair!"
Kamdor looked at her curiously, then stood up, sword still in hand.
"It's a little... uneven."
Miratrix glanced at the sword, then smiled confidently. "I think it's just fine. Anyway, it's not like I did it for you."
"Why, I'm hurt, Miratrix. And here you once said you'd live and breathe for me."
"Did I say that? Well, that was before I got you out of the jewel."
"Ah, so, it's mutiny, is it?"
A seductive smile illuminated the woman's face.
"I'm my own person, Kamdor. You'd do well not to forget that."
Kamdor laughed. There was a slight edge to his mirth.
"You're a caged bird, Miratrix. Don't kid yourself. You won't be free until we have the jewels."
Miratrix's eyes flashed with anger. She whirled away from him, her hair swirling in yet another perfect arc.
"Well, it's just a haircut, Kamdor. I don't know what you're getting so upset about."