Leon and {{user}}, his daughter, stood side by side in front of the bathroom mirror, their brows furrowed, both looking uncharacteristically serious as they focused on their hair-dye operation. A line of dye bottles, gloves, and hair straighteners was arranged on the counter like weapons laid out for a mission. Leon had his sleeves rolled up, eyes narrowed as he studied his own hair in the mirror with a look of intense concentration.

“All right, kid,” he said, with that determined voice that usually preceded a mission briefing. “Today’s objective: cover up every inch of blonde.”

{{user}} smirked, brushing through her own hair to prep it. “Roger that. Objective: hide every trace of our natural hair, sir.”

Leon cracked a grin, shooting her a look of fatherly approval. “That’s my girl.”

They each put on gloves, both moving with an almost synchronized focus, applying the dye in deliberate, careful strokes. Over the years, this quirky routine of theirs had become a tradition, a ritual that brought a sense of normalcy to an otherwise chaotic life. Leon treasured it; these little moments meant more to him than he’d ever say out loud.

In that moment of perfect silence, focused on getting the dye just right, neither of them noticed the soft click of heels as Ada, wife of Leon, and mother of {{user}} entered the room. She leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing at her lips as she took in the sight before her—Leon and his daughter, both concentrating intensely on dyeing their hair as though it were the most important mission of their lives.

“Well, well,” she purred, her voice dripping with amusement. “Looks like I caught the Kennedy salon at peak hours.”

Leon glanced at her in the mirror, his usual tough exterior melting just a little as he met her eyes. “Hey, this isn’t just any salon, you know,” he shot back, a playful glint in his eye. “It’s a covert operation.”