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Despite what everyone on the Astral Express might say, Stelle was not a kleptomaniac.
She wasn’t a bird attracted to bright and shiny things either, like March said. She would argue that she was just a curious person, thank you very much. And if the items she’d happened upon - whether they were in the trash, hanging off a mailbox, or atop a conference room table - looked abandoned…
Well, finders keepers. If they were important, they shouldn’t have been left alone in the first place.
It’s not like she actively looked for items to stea– er, give a new home to. Sometimes one just happened to open an abandoned suitcase and happened to take the expensive gold watch inside it.
…Not that she’s ever done that. It happened to a friend of hers, she swears.
While she may or may not have ransacked the streets of Belobog and the Alliance, abandoned items were uncommon on the Astral Express. On the rare occasion that there was one, the conductor was often quick to dispose of them or reunite them with their owner.
Which is why Stelle immediately picks up the brush when she finds it laying on a table in the parlor car. The handle is sleek, with bristles tapering down to a tiny, fine tip. She has no idea what it’s for, but upon deducing that the thing cannot be eaten or sold for a tidy sum, she decides to do the altruistic thing and return it to its owner.
Only if they give her a reward.
Asking the conductor is the first natural step. They know almost everything about everyone on this train, and if it wasn’t theirs, they surely would know who it belonged to.
“That’s not Pom-Pom’s,” they say, shaking their head.
“Do you know what it is?”
The conductor peers at the brush, humming contemplatively. “It looks like a paint brush.” Then, after a moment, “Welt likes art! Maybe it’s his! Do you want Pom-Pom to return it for you?”
Stelle hugs the thing to her chest. “It’s okay, I’ve got it.”
So she sets off in search of Mr. Yang, who she finds chatting with Himeko over some coffee.
“Lose your paint brush?” She asks, holding it up for the adults to see.
Mr. Yang pushes his glasses up, peering at the item. “That doesn’t belong to me, no.”
Now Stelle was at an impasse. “But I don’t know anyone else on board who paints.”
“That’s not a paint brush, dear,” Himeko tells her. “That’s a makeup brush.”
She blinks. “Makeup?”
“I suppose you were only born a few weeks ago,” Himeko titters, lowering her coffee cup. “It’s somewhat like paint, but for your face. It comes in many forms. Liquid, powder, cream.”
Thinking back, she had seen such items in March’s room before. Bottles and little boxes filled with light, pretty coloured powders and creams.
“The tool you’re holding is what’s used to apply makeup. Eyeliner, specifically.”
“Does March wear eyeliner?” She asks, suddenly unable to recall what her friend looks like.
“Not usually,” Himeko hums. “I don’t think she owns any black brushes, though…Oh! Come to think of it, Dan Heng wears liner!” She traces the underside of her eye with a finger, Stelle eventually nodding in understanding.
_____
Dan Heng is lifting stacks of books and papers, rummaging around in his desk drawers when Stelle enters the archives room.
“What are you doing?” she inquires, grinning as if she already knows the answer.
“Looking for something,” he answers. It wasn’t like him to lose things. He wasn’t often careless with his belongings.
“Your eyeliner brush?”
His head snaps up, gaze locking on the brush. “Yes, actually. Where did you find that?”
“In the parlor car,” she shrugs, letting him take it.
Dan Heng thanks her before pulling a small pot of something out of his drawer, uncapping it and dipping the brush inside.
Stelle stays and watches him, curious. He moves in front of the many monitors in the room, peering at his reflection as he swipes a light streak of red under the corner of his eye, then carefully repeats the process under the other.
“Why do you wear eyeliner?”
He turns around to look at her. “Hm? Oh, I suppose I just like how it looks.”
She looks at him as if she’s contemplating something, her gaze so intense that it puts him on edge. “It looks good on you.”
His eyes widen slightly at the compliment, a hot blush spreading across his cheeks. He clears his throat, doing his best to smooth over his expression. How can she just…say things like that? “Would you…like to try it?”
Stelle hesitates, and Dan Heng’s face turns hot once more.
“Not— not that I’m implying that you need it, or that your features need improving,” he says quickly, almost sounding apologetic. “You just seem curious.”
“I am,” she shrugs. “I just…think I might lose an eye if I try to put it on myself.”
He pauses, the serious look on his face fading into a soft smile as he breathes a small laugh. He pulls out the desk chair, gesturing for her to sit. “I can do it, if you want.”
“You won’t poke my eye out?” She checks, (but she sits in the chair anyway).
“I have a steady enough hand, but you’ll need to hold still.”
“Easy.”
Easier said than done, she should have said. She flinches backward as soon as Dan Heng leaned forward and his knuckles graze her chin in an attempt to tilt her head.
She shakes her head, expression scrunching in something akin close to embarrassment. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright,” he dismisses. “I should have warned you. Can you tilt your head up a little?”
She complies.
“Makeup is just about accentuating what’s already there,” he explains, turning away from her to dip his brush into the little pot. “I don’t like to use too much. Look up, please. I’m going to begin.”
Stelle tenses slightly when his knuckles graze her skin, the foreign sensation of the brush grazing just below her lashes prompting her to fidget slightly.
“Sorry,” she apologizes, looking sheepish. He wonders if she’s ever been touched so…intimately.
This time he gently grasps her chin to keep her in place, and she lets him.
He leans back to look at her when he’s done, sharp, bold lines of red lining the corners of her eyes. Stelle blinks up at him, as he does so. He can’t help but feel a little self-conscious under her unashamed stare.
She observes the slope of his nose, the press of his lips, the cool blue of his eyes, and seems to come to a realization.
“Dan Heng?”
“Yes?”
“You’re quite handsome.”
_____
March 7th is bored.
She doesn’t know where Stelle or Dan Heng are. Himeko and Mr. Yang were talking about something she lost interest in as soon as she heard the word “economics,” and the conductor was busy watering the plants.
Sighing loudly, she rests her cheek in the palm of her hand, swirling her juice around in its glass before downing the whole thing. She decides to turn in early, bidding everyone goodnight before she heads back to her room.
Her timing is superb, because she catches Stelle poking her head out of the archives room, looking around to see if the coast is clear.
Weird. Suspicious. Odd.
Her eyes widen when she spots March, who waves enthusiastically.
“Stelle! What were you doing in there?”
“Reading,” she says, much too quickly to be innocent.
“About what?” She pushes. Now face-to-face, the girl peers closely and can see that her friend is wearing…eyeliner?
Stelle takes a step back. “I was researching Stellarons, because, well, you know. Stelle.”
March blinks. She doesn’t know.
“…is short for Stellaron.”
“Oh, right!”
They stand there awkwardly for a minute as March figures out what to say. Stelle’s expression doesn’t give away much, but she’s known her long enough to see the flash of panic in her eyes when she says, “I like your eyeliner.”
Stelle mumbles a thanks and says goodnight before speed-walking back to her room.
Something’s definitely up.
So March closes in on her second target.
Dan Heng looks oddly disheveled when she enters the archives room. His hair is messy and unkempt, the neck of his shirt is undone, and…he’s currently picking up books off the floor.
When it comes to getting any information out of the man, it was best to make a very careful approach. Especially when it came to asking about his personal life.
She skims her fingertips across his desk as she approaches. “Sooo…What was Stelle doing here?”
He straightens at that, sharp gaze cutting back to her.
“Reading about the Aeons,” he answers.
Ah.
Got them.
“March? Why are you smiling like that?”
_____
After kicking March out of his room, Dan Heng sighs and runs his hands through his hair, lightly gripping the strands.
He’d…done a thing.
He and Stelle, specifically.
Their first kiss had been anything but elegant, all teeth clashing and noses bumping. Both of them had been unsure of what to do with their hands, but that was okay.
He smiles despite himself, remembering the way she’d breathed a small laugh when they’d pulled apart, resting her forehead against his.
He makes a note to review the romance novels March had been insisting he read months ago. Some light research.
For next time.