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“No shit!” Angel cackles, practically falling over in his amusement.
“I ain’t fuckin’ with you, Angie!” Cherri says, pushing on Angel’s shoulder lightly. “He said that!”
“Halfway through the fight? Seriously?” Angel gasps for air.
Cherri nods and takes a long sip of her drink before continuing. “OK ok. So basically, we’re in the middle of this fuckin’ cat fight, and this dude he fuckin’ sucks. He’s so bad at fighting it’s comical.”
“Oh! Vocab word!” Angel says, taking a shot and dramatically falling back onto his bed when Cherri playfully punches him in the arm.
“Shut up. Okay, so out of nowhere he just stops and goes ‘One second, have to rehydrate’.” Cherri adjusts her position on the bed, pausing to pet Fat Nuggets who is snoozing happily next to her.
“He takes out a bottle of fucking olive oil and starts chugging i-“ Her sentence is cut short by a slightly hysterical laugh.
“Didja- Jesus Christ, bitch take a breather. Didja ask him about it?” Angel asks, glancing toward the pile of makeup they abandoned for this conversation.
“Yeah,” Cherri says, finally regaining her composer just as Angel picks up an eyeliner. “He goes ‘good for the gut’ and then punches me again!”
Angel’s eyeliner goes clean across his face as he doubles over in laughter. He resurfaces and looks in the mirror only to start laughing again. “Fuck Cher, look what ya did.”
“I didn’t do shit asshat,” Cherri argues. “C’mere.”
Angel rolls his eyes but moves closer to Cherri to let her fix his eyeliner anyway. Angel’s eyes start widening suddenly.
“Hey stop that! You’re gonna fuck it up again.” Cherri murmurs.
Angel pushes her hand away. “Cher. I just had the best idea. It might get us killed.”
“Then we should do it!” She smiles widely.
Ten minutes later Cherri and Angel are in Husks’ room, trying (and not particularly succeeding) to be as quiet as possible.
The random giggles would have definitely given them away if Husk hadn’t been hammered.
Husk is no stranger to hangovers, hell he’s hungover more than he’s not. He’s used to all the headaches, nausea, head spinning, etc.
He was not used to looking in the mirror and seeing lipstick, eyeshadow, and mascara on his face. He sits there and stares at the mirror, more than a little confused.
“Am I still drunk?” He whispers to himself, looking closer in the mirror.
Husk isn’t going to admit it. Not to himself, not to Angel, not to anyone. But he didn’t mind the makeup. Honestly, it was a nice change up from his normal gruff appearance.
But you didn’t hear that from me.