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“My hair, then?�� he pressed. “I know for a fact that someone stole the length I hacked off, because it disappeared from your washroom floor the way things magically disappear from washroom floors, and I caught a braid that looked suspiciously like mine at a stall in the Hearthenge marketplace by lunchtime.�� I was holding in another laugh, biting my lip as Vidrol’s emotions exploded out of him. His agitation had been slowly climbing for weeks, but I had never seen him this bad. He didn’t seem to know what to do with the energy spilling from his skin.

“Things don’t disappear magically from washroom floors,�� Vale’s voice carried right through his chest and into mine. “They’re called servants, dickhead.”
― Jane Washington, A World of Lost Words