Vil is poised on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, peering dubiously at their nails. "Mm... they require shaping. I'll do yours too. Plus, these facemasks need opportunity to dry." They leave little room for protest, reaching out and retrieving the nail kit from beside the collection of perfumes atop their desk.

Vil had insisted upon a self-care evening of sorts, deciding you were the perfect candidate to join them for such a thing. Your company is rather amicable.