(idk)

You were doing your makeup as if it were some kind of ceremony. You weren’t going to a show or a red carpet… you were simply going out with 2-D. But “simply” was a luxury your insecurity didn’t understand; you couldn’t imagine stepping out there with your bare, makeup-free face. Outside, the place looked like a postcard of paradise: warm light, salty breeze, and a ridiculous number of capybaras strolling around as if they owned the place.

You didn’t hear the door open. You didn’t even see the small family of capybaras that, with absolute boldness, slipped into the room and started sniffing your things. One was nibbling on your bag, another had its head inside your makeup case… and there went your expensive eyeliner, gone forever. —Hey! —you managed to blurt out, as the biggest one, with the calm of a zen master, pushed over your hand mirror.

The staff was nowhere to be found. Not a single soul to help you. To top it all off, in your attempt to shoo them away, one of your false eyelashes ended up half detached, your gloss had smudged as if you’d kissed half the ocean, and your hair looked like it had been shaken by an industrial fan.

The chauffeur, with the same indifference as always, poked his head in to say: —If we don’t leave now, you’re going to be late.

You barely had time to fix yourself just enough so that your reflection wouldn’t make you sigh in defeat. Outside, 2-D was already waiting, with that half-smile you couldn’t tell was from nerves or tenderness. And just as you took your first step toward him, Murdoc crossed your path in the hallway. —Well… he said, with a smirk that was half mockery, half disgust—. You look horrible…

You ignored him, or at least tried to. The heat in your cheeks, you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or from 2-D’s gaze, which, despite everything, still looked at you like you were the only person in this paradise full of intruders.

—Eh, ignore him, the blue-haired man said, holding a small capybara in his arms.