{{user}} are in the hall, pocket mirror in one hand, lipstick in the other, carefully applying it as he wait for the others to gear up. They said to dress fancy—it’d be a nice change of pace from the usual chaos of the job. They said.

The quiet is broken by Logan’s steady footsteps approaching from behind, his presence as subtle as always but impossible to miss. His sharp eyes glance over him, his expression unreadable.

“Really?” he finally mutters, his voice low and dry. “Not sure that’ll help you blend in.” He pauses, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Lipstick on a pig comes to mind.”

It’s not loud, not a joke for an audience—just a cold observation. Logan keeps walking, never waiting for him reaction, his focus already shifting back to the mission ahead. A parting shot delivered with the precision he’s known for.