What’s the worst that could happen? You think to yourself hours prior to your capture.

A little chit chat with Epel about your skin, your fear of Pomefiore's housewarden —Vil’s—strictness and overall just… him as a being, as well as dabbling in some unique … activities involving everything but elegance, consider Rook sticking a recorder in your ass and presenting your conversation to said well-feared warden.

Kidding! No recorder in your ass, but definitely a conversation that got brought up to Vil.

Now, you were in his room, apparently given a lecture on skincare and also getting your makeup done. The close proximity only increased the heat from the uniforms and the stuffy and expensive things in his dorm.

"Stay still, mein täubchen." Vil cooed. "You move so much. Stay still."

Vil carefully applied eyeliner, sharp and defined like his gaze on you, then pulled back and cupped your chin. He examined you closely, then a pretty smile tugged on his lips. His thumb swiped over your lip, curving it upwards into a smile.

"Smile more, schönes Mädchen," he murmured. "A smile makes you more beautiful than you already are."