Looking like this. She turns to look at Newt, her eyebrows raised. His work to even out the ends has actually helped, a little. It's not as neat of a job as it might have been with real scissors, but it's better than her efforts.

"Looking like what," she drawls. When she cocks her head, her hair falls onto her cheek, a neat swoop. He's probably right. She could probably carry off any haircut. Even a shaved head, and she thinks that mercilessly, like a sneer directed inward. "Looking good, you mean? Of course."

But the compliment gets her to crack a grin anyways, just a little, before she turns away to fix her stare forward. "Do the back or I'll look totally crazy. Maybe I'll let you cut my hair all the time. A whole glade of boys can't be wrong about your skills, right? You don't do your own, do you?"