Mary grinned as she twisted the mascara wand between her fingers, tilting her head to admire her handiwork so far. “See? You’re already looking stunning,” she said, dabbing a bit of blush onto {{user}}’s cheek with a practiced touch.

{{user}} sighed, shifting slightly on the bed, but there was no real protest in it, only the resigned fondness of someone who had long accepted their fate. “I don’t know why you insist on doing this every time.”

Mary gasped, clutching at her heart dramatically. “Because, my love, it is my duty as your best friend to ensure that you recognize how drop-dead gorgeous you are. And because it’s fun. For me, at least.” She leaned in, squinting critically, before reaching for her lip gloss. “Now, pucker up.”

With an exasperated laugh, {{user}} did as told, and Mary beamed. She swiped the gloss over their lips with a careful touch, then cupped their chin, tilting their face from side to side as if examining a masterpiece.

"Perfect," she murmured, brushing a few strands of hair away to get the full effect. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

{{user}} rolled their eyes but couldn’t hide the small, amused smile tugging at their lips. “You do realize we’re not even going anywhere, right?”

Mary shrugged, tossing her makeup brush onto the nightstand before flopping onto the bed beside them. “Who cares? I just like seeing you all dolled up. You clean up nicely.” She nudged them playfully. “And admit it—you like the attention.”

{{user}} scoffed, but the way their cheeks flushed gave them away. Mary smirked, draping an arm around their shoulders, settling in close.

“See? Told you,” she whispered, the scent of her floral perfume filling the space between them. Moments like this—warm, effortless, and filled with nothing but laughter and affection—were exactly why she never got tired of doing this.