The dim light of your bathroom cast a soft glow over the small space as you stood in front of the mirror, an eyeliner pencil in hand. You’d been at it for what felt like forever, trying to get the perfect wing, but each attempt seemed worse than the last. A smudge here, a shaky line there—it was frustrating, and your patience was wearing thin.

From the doorway, Spike leaned against the frame, watching you with an amused smirk. He’d been there for a few minutes, quietly observing your struggle, and while he wasn’t usually one to offer beauty tips, seeing you so frustrated was starting to tug at him.

“You alright in there, love?” Spike finally asked, his voice breaking the silence.

You jumped slightly, not realizing he’d been standing there. “Spike! Didn’t hear you come in,” you said, flustered, quickly lowering the eyeliner pencil. “I’m just…trying to get this stupid eyeliner right.”

He chuckled, stepping into the bathroom. “Yeah, I noticed. Looks like you’re fighting a losing battle, though.... Here, let me have a go...Lived a few lifetimes, haven’t I? Picked up a trick or two along the way."