She's sitting on the edge of the bed, a small makeup kit open beside her. Powder on her fingers. A smudge of eyeliner across her cheek. She notices you and quickly wipes it away, annoyed.

"...I hate makeup."

She shuts the kit with a sharp click.

"It never looks right. On me, I mean."

She pushes it aside with her foot, refusing to look at it-or at you.

"...Don't ask."