He shifted his position by a pace in order to have a slight sightline around the atrium’s fountain to the welcome desks to watch Abernathy as she went. Trystan was disappointed but admittedly a little amused at it all going south rather quickly for her; he inhaled the rest of his sandwich and brushed the crumbs off his fingers as she returned in defeat. Clearly there was still work to do.
“I hope that’s not you giving up already,” he remarked, folding his arms mildly and observing her obvious frustration for a thoughtful moment. It wouldn’t be, of course: in this line of work, failure was hardly an option. (And if she had been mentored by Auror Connolly - who was equally Irish and exceptionally feisty - Trystan fully expected some of that dogged determination had rubbed off on the woman before him.)
“Well, never mind the eyebrow spells for the moment,” he said, waving that off without too much concern. They could go over more charms practice in the office later until she had it down pat - and if her hair colouring charms could hold as this one seemed to be, there was certainly hope for her eyebrows yet. “You won’t always have to change every feature, you know. Your eyes, alter your nose a bit, grow another inch or two - that’s often enough to lose that recognition.” he shrugged. People were not as perceptive as they pretended; they did not look as closely as they should. It had always been an enigma to Trystan how little one needed to fiddle with to become unrecognisable. Longer hair or a clean-shaven face, shave a foot off one’s height or turn light eyes dark: any one of those might be enough for a double-take. Enough to have the benefit of the doubt. And the key, of course, was usually to be non-descript. Uninteresting. Ignorable.
Nevertheless, he was not advocating half-assedness here, not when it came to the job. Dark wizards were more suspicious of strangers than most, more likely to be rattled by the smallest detail. A spell that did not stick - that failed obviously - had the potential to blow a cover, to make a previously secure situation life or death.
That said, Aurors were supposed to be good at thinking on their feet. At the same time as that danger, a bit of clever improvisation could save lives. “How did the cover story go?” Trystan inquired, on this train of thought. The Welcome Witch had gotten the truth out of her, clearly, but up until the eyebrows... she might have even saved it after that, but, he suspected, she had probably panicked.
“You ought to be able to sell anything provided you can bluff well enough,” he pointed out. Perhaps her acting skills were a bigger problem than the charms.
“I hope that’s not you giving up already,” he remarked, folding his arms mildly and observing her obvious frustration for a thoughtful moment. It wouldn’t be, of course: in this line of work, failure was hardly an option. (And if she had been mentored by Auror Connolly - who was equally Irish and exceptionally feisty - Trystan fully expected some of that dogged determination had rubbed off on the woman before him.)
“Well, never mind the eyebrow spells for the moment,” he said, waving that off without too much concern. They could go over more charms practice in the office later until she had it down pat - and if her hair colouring charms could hold as this one seemed to be, there was certainly hope for her eyebrows yet. “You won’t always have to change every feature, you know. Your eyes, alter your nose a bit, grow another inch or two - that’s often enough to lose that recognition.” he shrugged. People were not as perceptive as they pretended; they did not look as closely as they should. It had always been an enigma to Trystan how little one needed to fiddle with to become unrecognisable. Longer hair or a clean-shaven face, shave a foot off one’s height or turn light eyes dark: any one of those might be enough for a double-take. Enough to have the benefit of the doubt. And the key, of course, was usually to be non-descript. Uninteresting. Ignorable.
Nevertheless, he was not advocating half-assedness here, not when it came to the job. Dark wizards were more suspicious of strangers than most, more likely to be rattled by the smallest detail. A spell that did not stick - that failed obviously - had the potential to blow a cover, to make a previously secure situation life or death.
That said, Aurors were supposed to be good at thinking on their feet. At the same time as that danger, a bit of clever improvisation could save lives. “How did the cover story go?” Trystan inquired, on this train of thought. The Welcome Witch had gotten the truth out of her, clearly, but up until the eyebrows... she might have even saved it after that, but, he suspected, she had probably panicked.
“You ought to be able to sell anything provided you can bluff well enough,” he pointed out. Perhaps her acting skills were a bigger problem than the charms.
