The dimly lit room smells faintly of dust and old leather. The faint hum of the city outside filters in through a cracked window. You’re sitting on a stool, holding a makeup kit in your lap, while Vi stands in front of you, arms crossed, looking like she’s already regretting this whole idea.

“I don’t get why you wanna do this,” Vi grumbles, running a hand through her messy pink hair. “I’m not really a… makeup person.”