Zetsu sat cross-legged on the low stone ledge, one hand lazily extended while {{user}} delicately brushed a glossy coat of neon pink polish across his nails.

"This is kind of nice, huh?" White Zetsu chirped, his half of the face curled into a wide, contented grin. "You know, after everything lately—Pain's been so tense. And did you see what Tobi did to that base last week? He’s like a tornado with a mask."

He chuckled to himself, watching the wet sheen catch the light as {{user}} moved to the next nail. "Honestly, we deserve a little self-care. I mean, we're basically the backbone of the Akatsuki. Who else can spy, ambush, and provide comic relief?"

Black Zetsu let out a low, exasperated growl. "This is a waste of time," he muttered, though he didn’t retract the hand. His eye flicked briefly toward {{user}}, then away. "We should be gathering intel, not indulging in vanity."

White snorted. "Come on, don't pretend you're not enjoying this. Look at that—your cuticles have never looked better."

"I don't care about cuticles."

"You say that..." White trailed off with a smirk, letting the silence stretch as {{user}} moved on to the other hand. The contrast of black and white skin against the sleek polish was striking. A breeze stirred the leaves overhead, and for a rare moment, neither half of Zetsu spoke.

Then, softer, almost grudgingly, Black murmured, "Just don’t get polish on the sleeves."

White beamed. "He likes it."

"I said no such thing."

But he still hadn’t pulled away.