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"Yeah," Maebe breathed out in a chuckle. "I'm a b***h like that."

Mention of the neck tattoo guy had Maebe's calm demeanor cracking, and this time she didn't bother to hide it. "She does have great tits." She mumbled, clearly not actually thinking about how great America's tits are. "And she's a good friend. Actually she's a good everything. I don't know how people that perfect exist."

Maebe had painted her nails pink, without striping. But now, she eyed the orange, and then started to clean the polish off of her nails to try again. "Sometimes I just wish I was somebody else for a day. Just to try it on. See how it felt."

Chel's joke made Maebe smile, but there was something lacking in her expression. It was a joke she would have made herself, not one month ago. Now, she just didn't have the heart for it.

The makeup kit was referenced, and Maebe reached up, touching her face. She realized, belatedly, that she'd been wearing less and less each day. A shudder passed through her, as if she'd suddenly woken up from a dream where she was public speaking with no pants on. Or, in her case, with no makeup on.

"Okay. Sure. Paint me like one of your French girls." Her eyes flickered to Chel, amused at her own joke. She was French, after all. It wouldn't be a stretch. "Faites-moi belle."

"Are you going to give me a new look?" She asked her, even as she striped orange and pink together on the one nail she had decided to retry. "Make me a new woman?" She reached quickly for the sponge, and swirled it against the nail delicately. Though still a mess, she was fascinated with how the two colors blended, effortlessly churning and mixing until it was something entirely new. It was not the intended effect, but.

"I'm really terrible at this." Maebe chuckled out, showing her the sherberty swirl she had created. "It's disheartening."

Maebe smiled a tiny, secret smile, and pushed herself up to her feet. On her desk, there was a medium sized pink box, cut into many small sections that were all closed. She touched a button on the side, and a soft tinkle of music box notes played as it slowly unfurled. At first, it was just the front panel lowering to reveal all the different tiny staircase style sections. The box continued, each section pushing out farther than the one above it, filled with tiny bottles of makeup and hair style product, as well as dozens of little applicators of every shape and size.

When the music stopped playing, the box had turned into a grand ballroom staircase of beauty on the desk.

"Knock yourself out, sugar."

She would have accepted a clap. She did not say so, because Chel asked her to wash her face off, and Maebe felt a pang of regret. The idea of being completely makeupless in front of anyone scared her just a little bit. She knew how young she looked. How naive. How not her it would look, the moment all the eyeliner was gone.

She took her time heading to wash off her face, and even more time actually doing it. When she returned, a heavy silence had fallen over her, coupled with an eternal frown.

At least it wouldn't be long until she had makeup once more. That was enough to make her surge forward, sit down, close her eyes, and wave Chel forward.

"No." She murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction as Chel sat in her lap. Her eyes opened, and the worry was gone. She placed her arms around Chel's back, holding her hands together loosely to give the girl something to lean back against should she need it.

This wasn't so bad at all.

"I want this to come entirely from you." Her voice was a sated purr. "I want to see what your imagination sees. I want to know what your hands can do."

She smiled a sweet smile, but it had lost some of it's biting edge with no makeup on it.

"I can be gay as ********." She reminded Chel, her hands reaching out to brush her fingers along the girl's arm even as she worked, with featherlight touches. "I don't discriminate. But if you mean I sounded sentimental, don't worry. It's not. I just get a lot of pleasure out of seeing what someone can do." She began to fall silent, so Chel could work without hindrance, but while Chel was switching makeups, she finished her thought with a light, airy quip.

"Pleasure is the name of the game, after all."

The woman looked like she was carving a masterpiece from marble. Maebe tried to be as still as a statue, clearly content to be Chel's canvas.