Lex did not like when things ran out.

Running out meant someone had failed to plan. Failure to plan was inefficient. Inefficiency was unacceptable.

Which was why he noticed the problem before it actually became one.

He was standing in the bathroom one morning, listening to her open a drawer, then another, then pause.

That pause meant something was missing.

He looked over slightly, eyes scanning the counter like he was inventorying lab equipment instead of makeup.

“…You’re low on three things,” he said.

He picked one up, turned it slightly, reading the label, the brand, the shade number, the product line.

“You replace these manually,” Lex continued. “Which means eventually you will run out because humans forget things.”

A pause.

He set it back exactly where it had been.

“I don’t forget things,” he said simply.

The next day, his assistant received a list.

Brands. Shade numbers. Quantities. Preferred stores. Delivery schedule.

Every month. Automatically. Indefinitely.

When the assistant asked how long the subscription should last, Lex didn’t even look up from his work.

“…For the rest of her life,” he said.

A pause.

Then he added, almost as an afterthought—

“And if any of these products are discontinued, buy the company that makes them and put them back into production.”