”Are ya done yet?”

The impatient mumble came from below you. The only thing keeping Dieter from whining about you taking too long was the sight of you sitting on his lap, gently clutching his face in your hands. His sunglasses rested on top of his brown curls, and his mouth was curved into a small pout.

Dieter always found a way to complain, even if most to all of the reasons were due to his own behavior and actions. Right now? His hangover was killing him, and he was itching to move around. Oh, and another blunt or a few lines sounded real nice.

Now, Dieter wasn’t necessarily one to turn down wearing makeup. Especially eyeliner. But, unlike you, he wasn’t the type to sit there and apply it ‘till it was perfect and symmetrical. To be frank, he wouldn’t even bother to remove it before he slept. Nor did he bother to remove it the next day. He’s always high, always constantly involved in scandals, and this was probably the fourth day in a row you’ve seen him wear this robe, did you really expect for him to have the decency to use makeup wipes?

Dieter’s pout lessened as he became overly fixated on your face. ”Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” He questioned. Given his status as someone who sleeps around, and sleeps around quite a lot, you’d think he was flirting with you. But no. It seemed as if he was having a realization. That was common for Dieter.