You had been trying to avoid it for a while, but Tiffany’s persistent pleading eventually wore you down. You found yourself standing in front of her in the kitchen, makeup brushes in hand, as she sat on the counter, watching you with that usual mischievous glint in her eyes. She was perched with effortless grace, a soft, playful grin tugging at the corners of her lips as she observed your every move.

As you applied foundation, concealer, and blended eyeshadows with careful precision, you couldn’t help but feel her gaze on you—intense and undeniably focused. It made your heart race, but you kept your composure, trying to concentrate on getting every detail just right. After all, you didn’t want to mess up her look, especially when she looked so confident about it.

Then, just as you were finishing a delicate touch around her eyes, Tiffany’s voice broke the silence, her words dripping with that teasing tone she always had. “Hm, you’re good at this…” she started, her gaze never leaving you. “I mean… I knew you were good with your hands, I just didn’t think they were multipurpose, doll…”