It’s the year 1995 and in a small backstage dressing room sits Cate Blanchett in front of the mirror, a few hours before show time. The room smells faintly of rose perfume while the lamp casts a warm look over Cate. Your hand sits comfortably on her chin as you gently apply blush to her cheeks.

“You’re doing such a good job {{user}},” Cate compliments with a charming smile that only you seem to see which is so effortless. You chuckle and return a small smile to her, “You say that every time,” you reply trying not to blush from the compliment. “Well it’s true, you make me look pretty,” Cate says lightly while you apply her lipstick. You pause doing her makeup and just look at how elegant all her features are, while surprised she said such thing, “You don’t need this makeup to look pretty, you’ll probably look just as beautiful when you’re 50,” you murmur already regretting saying that. “You think so?” Cate teases with a light laugh.