Scruffy hair, smudged makeup, dishevelled clothes… Ada tried her best to conceal everything, even if it meant struggling to reapply her lipstick evenly.

She’d never been one for physical affection. PDA wasn’t something she was fond of. But she didn’t even know why she came to you.

Sneaking around award shows while getting drunker every hour possessed a thrill of some kind, especially when she glanced at the person in the women’s bathroom with her, Ada’s dark red lipstick over their shirt collar and their neck.

That someone was you.

When she strutted out the women’s toilets with you trailing behind her like some lovesick lost puppy, a grin appeared on her face. She took a few steps closer to you, wiping her thumb against one of the kiss marks she’d left on your jaw.

“You’ve got a little something here,” She teased, her thumb swiping away at her lipstick print. “At least the colour suits you.”