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“How much longer will this take?” Beruka speaks not of impatience, far from it, but the mild anxiety that came with letting your guard down. To leisurely allow herself to relax was something she lacked experience in. She lay bare at the hands of Charlotte’s craftsmanship; a masterpiece! She’ll be proudly stood upon a metaphorical podium in the fighter’s mental trophy room.
The atmosphere was quiet. One would normally say it was comfortable, but she felt reluctance in agreeing with that. Having her eyes closed as someone followed her upper lash line with a thin pencil made her feel… too defenseless. Adorned to the heel with armor held little comfort when it came to someone being unusually close. Old habits die hard, she’d think, as Beruka became hyper-aware of every sound that’d rustle, every movement that Charlotte did as her body heat soon became just as normal as the air around her. Muscles were expectantly stiff.
Needless to say, this was Charlotte’s idea.
Despite Beruka’s slight hesitance with the idea, she held no protest. In fact, an assassin’s rare found smile naturally softened her face at the thought. It was always a smile so genuine that any words that’d follow rode blissfully into the air. Any time spent with the one person who truly held her heart captive is always time well spent. Not to mention, something this lighthearted was good practice for adjusting to… common social norms.
“Not much longer,” Beruka heard a light clatter upon a nearside table stand. “just have your lips left to do. What color would you like best? Red or pink?” Charlotte’s ‘or’ prolonged the vowel in blatant delay as she scavenged for the questioned colors.
“... Which do you think would look best on me? You’re better at this than I am, after all.” That didn’t stop her from thinking about it, however. Not that Beruka came to any solid conclusions. A short, thoughtful hum came from Charlotte. “Since we’re aiming for a natural look… Let’s go… Pink!” Beruka gave a short nod.
She took a mental note of Charlotte adjusting her posture, subconsciously readying herself for the last step of her makeover. Seconds ticked. It was that moment of static nothingness that Beruka realized it was safe to open her eyes. So she did so, slowly, taking full witness of Charlotte sitting across from her transfixed into an unblinking stare. “Is something wrong?” The wand of gloss hovered only a ways away from her lips, flinching back once Beruka spoke. “No, no! It’s nothing. I just… was wondering,” Eyes previously caught in an absent daze rose to meet Beruka’s. “if I should kiss you now, or after. I don’t think this lip gloss is flavored, though…” Once she said that she double checked the brand, perhaps to pull her out of her captivated state and reel her back to reality. “You can kiss me now,” Beruka said softly. “I don’t mind.”
That was all Charlotte needed to hear. A small giggle of amusement was caught in her throat as she delicately pressed her lips against the others. Chaste, and sweet. They both fluttered their eyes shut. The blatant lack of experience was evident in Beruka's reaction. Lips were near motionless, uncertain of what to exactly do - even if they've done this a few times before. Still, compared to their first, Beruka can say with confidence she has gotten better. Definitely better at welcoming it, too.
It only lasted for a moment as Charlotte pulled away, almost with hesitance. “The lip gloss wasn’t flavored, by the way. But… I wouldn’t mind kissing you again after I put it on.”
“Wouldn’t that mess it up?”
Charlotte gave out an airy laugh. “We can just put it back on, then. But i'm sure you'll be fine. Now! Let’s finish you up here. You’re really gonna knock ‘em dead out there, just you wait and see!”
Knock em’ dead, huh? Beruka smiled to herself. I suppose I wouldn’t mind that.