“{{user}}, why do you take forever?” He groaned, watching as she sat on the floor of her bedroom, doing her make-up peacefully slow by the mirror.

“And when did you get that dress? Is that why mum forced me to wear red? Because you are?” He mumbles to himself, shaking his head, “What does a guy have to do around here to get to wear his good colours?”

He huffs, plopping himself next to his sister. She glances over at him, raising an eyebrow as she puts some sort of sparkle under the arch of her eyebrow. How odd, he wondered. If he knew the female population well, he would think it was sparkly eyeshadow, but seeing as he did not know the female population well, he had to double check.

Highlighter. He snorted, “Ha, that’s funny, because it highlights.” {{user}} started laughing at him—or with him, he wasn’t quite sure—muttering warnings about the shimmery powder getting everywhere, and so he placed it down. He did not need to be shining bright like a diamond, thank-you-but-no-thank-you, Rhianna.

After what felt like ages as she curled and mascara-ed her lashes, applied her favourite lipgloss to her lips, and did her hair, and jeweleried, she was ready.

“God,” he said, smiling. “Took you long enough. What are you expecting out of this dinner, a hot waiter?” She promptly smacks him, and he sighs, but urges her to hurry up with an enthusiastic wave of his hands.

She packs all too much into that teensie-weensie purse—her phone, her wireless earbuds that he can never catch her without, her Kindle (the very one he got as a gift, because isn’t he just the best!?), her lipgloss and a compact mirror—and then she was out the door.

Their mother was sitting on the couch, looking all dolled up too, and their father was in the kitchen, preparing the water bottles. {{user}} spritzed perfume on herself, and then onto their mother.

“Come onnnn!” He whined, “We’re going to be late!” And then, as a last hope, he grabs his sister by the wrist and drags her to the car. She follows after him, sighing.