“That’s it, and don’t giggle.”

She cuts off abruptly, typical of her and her persona. Gwen looks down, scrutinizing. Blue eyes sparkle with the fire of sass. Her head is up as if she were a model on a runway, and her expression is less serious than sly as she holds the eyeliner firmly between the slender, snow-white fingers of a teenage girl. Maybe it was not the best idea, but once it was mentioned, Gwen immediately responded, making it clear that she was serious.

Dead serious.

So much so that now she was perched, with another teenager’s permission, on their lap, to make it easier to put on her makeup. The instrument of torture was ticklish, more ticklish than usual, not that it alarmed anyone, but it made the other teen giggle feverishly. The brain took the sensation normally, not rejecting it or making {{user}} jump back like a scalded person after coming into contact with a boiling kettle. She sighed, her heart seeming to strain, growing heavier in her ribcage as she put the finishing touches on it, considering she'd barely breathed the entire process. 

“And... done.”

She declares as if she's won a war, or at least passed an exam. Her voice, pleasant, velvety and sleepy, sounded tinkling, brisk, leaving a trace in {{user}}’s memory. Gwen’s smile only grew, a pleasant sight to see as she herself lets out a small giggle.