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Let it be known that while Janet Drake is prestigious and wealthy, perhaps envied by others, she is still a mother first and foremost. What that entails is having a soft spot for her son, Timothy.
She knows that they have been very fortunate with their wealth, which of course extends to their lovely mansion. Spacious and lavish, it remains a place for many Gotham citizens to marvel at while still being a homely space for the Drake family. Large chandeliers with glistening crystal fragments hang overhead with their dazzling glory in nearly every room, save for the homely bedrooms.
Despite its size, the manor never seems to feel too large to Janet, not with all the people bustling around inside. There’s plenty of servants even for a family as small as theirs; Janet herself, plus her husband, Jack Drake. And of course their dear son.
A young boy of nine years old, with far more intellectual curiosity than should be allowed for a kid so tiny. The servants all take a liking to the young child, shown through their diligent care and firm teaching in their respective responsibilities. Janet, however, is guilty of indulging Timothy in various spectacles. She’ll do nearly anything to see her son smile freely.
One such example falls onto tonight. There’s a ball to attend in the latter half of the evening, which is to say that there’s really not much happening at all. Janet perches on the plush seat in front of her vanity table, like a bird preparing to preen its feathers; in this case, in preparation for her makeup routine.
She knows that Timothy will be home with the rest of the maids tonight, so she has no worries for him, as usual. Timothy pops his head in at some point, and she greets him warmly.
“Timothy, my dear!” He doesn’t usually come into his parents’ room often—he insists that the curtains surrounding the bed are always out to get him. They pull it back for him as often as they can, but it’s not like there is a shortage of rooms for him to visit in their manor.
Timothy observes in a tranquil silence for the first while. Then he speaks up.
“Which one do you use first?”
“Well, that’s up to the person. Everyone has a different technique—a different way that they like to do it.” Certainly, she would know. Various gatherings with her friends have shown that everyone is strict on their own ways of applying makeup. Trying to change up that routine would be offsetting the balance.
“I know, mom.” Timothy pouts. “I want to know what you do.”
The sentiment surprises Janet. Here she is, thinking he took a liking to makeup as a whole, when he really just wants to connect with his dear mother. The thought warms her little heart.
“Ah, why didn’t you say so! The first thing you can start with is primer.”
Janet reaches for the materials while she speaks. Waves them around for a little added presentation emphasis. They are organized by colour, nothing more. After these many years with applying makeup, she now knows where everything is by memory and touch alone.
“For myself, I don’t use setting powder. It’s not needed. But for that little extra glamour, you can apply a dab of highlighter, then a touch of lipstick.” Janet punctuates it with a dainty dab on her rosy lips. She pauses, then adds in additional forethought: “Oh, you can also add bronzer. Before the lipstick, that is.”
Timothy nods, all bright-eyed and curious, the sweet little angel. He attributes this mini-lesson with the same attention and care as he would a lesson from one of his teachers. Janet wants to smother him with all the hugs and kisses she possibly can. But not until the setting spray has been applied.
Janet goes on about the most traditional order in the simplest terms she can string together; she follows the sequence passed down to her from her own mother. The memory brings a wistful, serene smile to her face as she recounts it in that same way to Timothy. The way a mother should.
Timothy settles into the bed, laying on his stomach with his arms propping up his head, listening intently. Such a good kid, always so eager.
She continues putting on her makeup long after their conversation is done, and when it comes to the finishing touches, she notices that he’s still intently watching. This interest sparks the early flames of detonation in her mind.
“Say…” Janet lightly taps a finger against her chin, as she tilts her head toward him. “How would you like to try some makeup, yourself?”
“Me?” Timothy points at himself to ask, which is adorable all on its own.
“Yes, you.”
She watches him ponder the notion. He lightly rocks back and forth on his heels while doing so, and it takes all of Janet’s willpower not to march over there and steal a soft squish on his soft cheeks. As much as he detests it, it’s her hard-earned reward every now and then.
Timothy snaps his fingers once, to signify making up his mind. A cute little habit he must’ve picked up from Jack—the dashing gentleman that he is.
“No thank you!” He says. “I’m going out to take some more pictures of bats.”
A black camera, sleek and the newest model Jack could find, sits comically large in Timothy’s tiny little hands. He holds it tight, with the same care as when he received it months ago for his birthday. He eyes her with wide eyes, waiting for permission. She wants to coo at how well-mannered he is. He’s been taught well.
“Okay, my dear. Have a good time and stay where the servants can watch you.”
“I will!”
He runs off with the kind of energy that only kids his age have. Bright, youthful, and with an innocence of a longevity that she’ll ensure for as long as she can.
Janet laughs lightly, shaking her head a little. If only she could apply that kind of enthusiasm to the ball tonight. It’s exciting and fun, the way it always is, but it’s no performance in the eyes of a child.
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After that encounter, there is now a new frequent occurrence during Janet’s daily makeup routine. Without fail, she’ll direct her vision to see a fluffy little head peeking through the doorway, like a little quokka. One that looks around in mild interest.
Janet makes a joke, one perky morning, about how it makes her feel like an animal being observed, to which Timothy smiles his cute little smile and tells her that if she were an animal, she’d be a bird. It’s the grandest compliment she’s ever received.
Regardless of whenever these occurrences happen, she waves him over without fail. Alas, her vibrant little son only takes up that offer once or twice since then; he runs away most of the time. He’s probably distracted by whatever he wishes to photograph most these days. He did have an interest in that one bird; something black, if her memory doesn’t fail her. Maybe a crow? She’ll have to make a mental note to ask him about it. He gets so passionate when talking about these things!
She’ll even catch him over at her table by himself, observing idly. Sometimes he’ll even pick a product up—seemingly at random—to examine it closely, and then run off again. It’s oh so very cute to watch. The servants find it really cute, and try tempting him by showing off their own products. He looks at the ones that they offer, contemplating, and then hands them back. They let him do his own thing, really. But it goes around that they find the young boy very cute for his fascination. Ah, youth. Children can be so silly and energetic!
Janet loves talking about this new addition to her routine with her house maids during their casual chats here and there. It just comes up in conversation, how sweet her little boy is. It makes her heart swell with pride, seeing the joy and happiness that Timothy brings to the house.
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On some occasions, Janet strives for a more vibrant style. They’re out to Gotham’s grandest theatre tonight, so she must be as dazzling as the costumes the actors will dance along the stage with. She has to match the theme, as well as her friends who she knows will be in attendance as well.
She’s dressed brightly like a peacock, with multiple colours in her dress. Jack is around the first floor of their manor somewhere, looking prim and proper with his sapphire blue suit. Janet is wonderfully familiar with it—she picked it out earlier that week over tea. To match the feathers at her hem. Timothy comes in to join her, and he looks wonderful in his bottle green blazer.
“Why do you put makeup on, mother?”
“Well, people can wear makeup for many reasons. For me in particular…” Janet does a quick spin, spreading her arms out in a dramatic flourish. “Tada!”
The dramatic flair doesn’t faze Timothy all that much, as he is used to all the times Janet demonstrates her displays of extravagance on a whim. He still sits, awaiting her answer, so she rewards him for his patience: “It’s something I simply enjoy.”
“Can…” Timothy takes a moment to find his words. “Could I wear makeup too?”
“Of course, my dear.” She remembers offering it to him a while ago. Wonders if it’s been on his mind all this time. “You can do anything you set your sights out to do. Don’t forget that.”
“Even being a hero?”
Janet chuckles lightly. “Yes, Timothy.”
The first word barely leaves her mouth when Timothy is already jumping up with joy. Janet with the fondness of someone who’s used to hearing these sorts of proclamations. He bounces on the bed once, twice more, and then darts out of the room in a blur, narrowly missing his father in the doorway. Timothy is like a little whirlwind of energy, or a bundle of joy.
“He’s going to grow up real ambitious, that one.” Jack muses from across the room.
Janet smiles. “He’s a Drake, after all.”
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“Mom, I think I’m ready.” Timothy says, at the table immediately after their afternoon tea. Thank goodness the teacups have already been cleared away, because lord knows the liquids would be in places they shouldn’t be, to Janet's astonishment right now. Timothy’s words are spoken solemnly, and sends a jolt of worry into Janet. Ready for what? She hurries around the table to her boy, brows creasing delicately.
He wanders out of the room. With great parental concern, Janet hovers closely behind him. They walk into the neighbouring room. Why, into Janet’s bedroom. Timothy makes his way over to the vanity table.
Janet clutches at her pearls and lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh heavens, you don’t have to scare me like that Timothy!”
He looks at her in a blank sort of way, not questioning but not quite understanding either. She just exhales in the relief of nothing more serious at hand.
“I have to ask, what changed your mind?”
“I did some research and read some articles on dad’s computer.” Since Jack isn’t home that often, Timothy somehow found a way to access the computer in the main office. No parental locks could stop that brain of his. “At my great big age, I have to be prepared for everything. Like Batman!”
It’s of course, very endearing that he wanted to do such research at his young age of nine.
“Why yes, at your great big age of nine.” Janet means it as a tease, but Timothy takes her words at face value and smiles proudly.
He has been looking forward to reaching double digits. It’s quite funny how kids want nothing more than to grow up, but adults—one such as Janet—would give anything to be young again. She can’t bring herself to correct him, so she chuckles and pulls out a brand new makeup set, instead.
There’s a small bag of a basic selection of products, now laid out on the vanity for Timothy to peruse at his leisure. Janet takes pride in having picked them out herself. Her son should receive nothing but the best, and that extends to his newfound interest in makeup too.
“Now, what would you like to start with?”
He makes a big show of thinking it over. He darts his gaze along each and every product laid out before him as though he were choosing which dessert to sample first.
“I think… this one!” Timothy points at a beige coloured cream. Janet has asked for the servants to colour match his skin tone as best they could, before she put in the custom order for his set. Since the boy wants to have a little fun, who’s to stop him from having the best makeup there could be?
“Splendid. Let me show you how to apply it properly.”
She teaches him about the correct order to put on makeup. She takes joy in teaching him the little things. There’s not too much she feels that she can teach him otherwise; they have personal chefs and maids to do the cleaning. Life is quite comfortable for them, but she now understands the joy in passing down the knowledge.
Jack wanders in. He sees them going hard on their activity and nods, raising his eyebrows in surprise (but not judgement—as much as Janet loves him, she would beat his ass for not supporting their son in his endeavours).
“Are you having a good time, my lovelies?”
Timothy tries his very best to follow the instructions down to T. He’s not one to attempt a task half-heartedly, if his teachers have anything to say about it. Those conferences are simply lovely; they usually have nothing but high praise for Timothy. What better joy could a mother have than pride for her son?
“Yes!” Timothy says. “How do I look?”
It’s not blended properly, and the rouge dusting his cheeks are a touch too red; it shows his precious little efforts. It’s perfect.
Janet could not be more proud. “Astoundingly perfect, my little boy.”
Jack raises an eyebrow. “Is this going to become a common occurrence?”
“That’s up to our son.”
They both look at him on cue. He's still eyeing the ingredients of one product, eyes skimming over the ingredients rapidly. Sometimes Janet would love nothing more than to know what’s going on in his mind.
He tilts his head slightly towards them, still staring at the list with wide eyes. “Depends…” He trails off, getting lost in his head the way he does, sometimes. Janet jokes that he has too many thoughts to be contained in that small head of his, but it often feels like the truth.
“Finish your words, dear.” Janet kindly urges.
“Depends on the day!” The straightforward, innocent answer has them both bursting into light laughter. It’s a more diverting answer than they were expecting, so the two of them burst into light laughter.
With how his mind works, it’s easy to forget he’s really just a kid.
“Of course. Anything you want, Timothy.”
Janet hopes that the happiness and curiosity in him will last forever. She’ll make sure of that. She is his mother, after all.