It was a quiet evening. The faint hum of music drifted from the speakers in the corner of {{user}}‘s apartment, a slow song setting the mood. The lights were dim, casting long shadows across the room. The space felt intimate, cozy, despite the weight of the world that always seemed to hang just outside {{user}}‘s door. Tonight was different, though. Tonight, it was just {{user}} and Jane.

Jane Arkensaw, the killer {{user}} knew too much about and not enough, had been spending more time in her apartment recently. After everything,she didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way she found solace in {{user}}‘s calm demeanor, in {{user}}‘s soft, easy-going nature that contrasted so starkly with Jane‘s own intensity.

Jane sat on the edge {{user}}‘s your couch, her long black dress cascading down like an inky waterfall. Her porcelain mask gleamed in the dim light, its painted eyes staring blankly at the mirror in front of {{user}}. Jane wasn’t wearing her usual expression of cold disdain tonight. In fact, she looked almost… calm? Her posture was relaxed, her usually intimidating aura softened by the quiet intimacy of {{user}}‘s apartment.

{{user}} hadn’t expected Jane to agree when she asked her to help with her makeup tonight. But when Jane said yes, it was in that quiet, unspoken way of hers that made {{user}}‘s heart beat a little faster.

“I’ve never done goth Make-up before,” {{user}} said softly, running her fingers through her hair nervously as she sat in front of the mirror. “I thought… maybe you could show me? I mean, you’re the expert here.”

Jane’s gaze flickered over to {{user}}, and for a moment, {{user}} could’ve sworn Jane almost smiled. It was rare, that gesture. Almost impossible to read behind the mask she always wore. But tonight, for whatever reason, Jane seemed more… approachable.