lando swiped the hotel keycard and stepped into the quiet suite, the soft thud of the door closing behind him. he ran a hand through his hair, still slightly damp from a day of work at the MTC.

and that grounding usually came in the form of you.

“hey?” he called, voice echoing slightly in the open-plan space.

no answer.

he heard the faint hum of music from the bathroom — something lo-fi and chilled, almost drowned out by the rush of running water in the sink. he followed the sound, pushing the bathroom door open a few inches. the warm light spilled into the hallway — along with a wave of steam and… lavender?

then he saw you.

perched on the counter, cross-legged like a content gremlin in the middle of a skincare apocalypse, you sat there — in a black lace push-up bra and baggy black tracksuit pants that hung low on your hips. your hair was pulled back into a loose bun, a few strands escaping down your neck. your face, however, was anything but romantic.

half of it was covered in a thick green clay mask. the other had a smoother, glossy pink sheen. there were gel eye patches below both eyes and a white strip plastered across your nose. several open containers of creams and serums were scattered across the counter, along with a towel, a headband that read “glow mode on”, and — inexplicably — a cold spoon resting in a glass of ice water.

lando leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, just watching you for a moment. amused. curious. completely baffled.

you finally noticed him and looked up, unfazed.

“hey!” you said, smiling like nothing was weird about your current state. “you’re back.”

he raised an eyebrow. “i… yeah. i was, uh, expecting a kiss. not the creature from a very stylish swamp.”