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you don't know why scaramouche wears makeup to begin with. her skin is so smooth and has the tiniest pores ever, it practically looks like her skin was crafted from the finest porcelain available. and her lips are a perfect shade of pinkish-red already, why bother putting on any lip tint to begin with?
your hands had already begun gently wiping under her eyes with the micellar soaked cotton pad, paying close attention to not irritate her skin.
"why do you wear concealer?" you said, putting another cotton pad stained with concealer off to the side in the tiny pile that had begun to emerge.
"I have dark circles," she said. "i can't maintain my amazing grades without losing a little bit of sleep, you know." her legs languidly swung back and forth off the stool she was sitting on, blinking slowly at you.
"first of all, you barely even have eyebags. second, you dont make any effort for those grades and you know it! it's me who's losing sleep, not you." huffing, you dabbed the inner corners of her eyes that still had concealer stuck to them.
"look up, i can't get it all off if you don't," you instructed.
scaramouche complied wordlessly, a dazed grin on her face. holding her chin, you'd occasionally turn her head to go over any spots you had missed.
you liked to wipe off her eye makeup at the very end of this little ritual-routine thing of yours with scaramouche. how could you remove such a defining staple to who she was at the very start? or even in the middle of the process? you always thought of it like unwrapping a gift and taking off the tiny bow at the top of it at the very end. or peeling an orange.. you aren't sure what the bow would be, there's no bow on an orange to take off. maybe eating the orange?
"okay, now close your eyes."
scaramouche's red eyeliner's pretty. it's sharp, it's precise- you could only dream of having eyeliner this smooth; her eyeshadow was a deep shade of red lighty dabbed onto her eyelids and glitter blended in. these small details were the elements needed to tie up her clean and elegant appearance.
your cotton pad wiped away her distinguishing red eyeliner and eyeshadow. you mindlessly commented out loud, "you shouldn't be taking off her makeup so late at night. your pores are gonna get clogged.
"well, my pores look perfectly fiiine to me," she tauntingly replied.
"okay, we get it, you have perfect skin," you said. you promptly pulled away to splash a bit of water on your hands and then onto her face. she slightly grimaced, and for a brief moment she looked like an annoyed, sopping wet cat. finally, you dried her face off with the cloth already sat on the edge of the sink.
scaramouche didnt look all that different. after all, her makeup routine wasn't all that complicated. some foundation, blush, eyeliner and eyeshadow topped off with lip tint. but she did look different- more human. the comment about her looking like a porcelain doll was far from an exaggeration. even so, this human still looked like she was hand crafted by the divinely despite being in her most raw and delicate state.
she stood up and hooked her arm around yours, already dragging you right back towards your shared bedroom.
"you take so long wiping off a bit of grown-up paint on my face. its freezing cold in that bathroom," scaramouche grumbled.
"but you weren't even shivering?"
"you were... quicker this time."
"you literally just said i take too long."
scaramouche ignored your comment, humming instead. she briefly let go of your arm once the two of you were stood by the edge of the bed, fluffing up the pillows and making sure the bedding was comfortable.
"scara, you're taking sooo long making the bed all cozy," you mocked. "are you sure you didn't just wanna go to bed?"
she shot you an irritated glare. "shut your trap, will you?"
"i didn't hear any sort of defense from you."
"because my beauty sleep is more important than wasting my time bickering with you," she said, already climbing onto the bed. "hurry up and get in already."
this time you were humming in response, crawling in and making yourself comfortable next to her.
your focus landed on scaramouche's attire once you were laid on your side. she was wearing a thin, long sleeved white cotton shirt, and a pair of grey shorts; you could see her skin and outline of her collarbone poking through the neck of her shirt.
then your gaze trailed its way towards her face— her hair framed her profile quite nicely, and her bangs were tousled across her face. she looked really pretty, and that was the simplest you could put it. delicate, even.
her eyes narrowed at you before shuffling closer to your body. she felt distinctly cold; that would've prompted you to think back to her previous remark had it not been for the fact she was just naturally a cold person.
still, you relented and wrapped your arms around her waist. your hands traveled under her shirt and rested comfortably against her lower back; the cooling sensation from her skin was cozy.
scaramouche curled into you like a lazy, pampered, expensive cat— as if she was graciously allowing you to caress and spoil her without swatting you away out of the kindness of her heart. coincidentally, though, if she were indeed a cat, you'd likely hear a content purr as opposed to an annoyed grumble. it's in her favor that she's a human.
a cat scaramouche is a fun thought to entertain before you fall asleep from time to time.