“Ya like this shade better,” you asked, voice amused, “or the one before this?”

Your fingers curled gently under Remy’s chin, tilting his face up so he had no choice but to look at himself in the mirror. The evidence was everywhere, kiss marks scattered shamelessly across his skin. One pressed to his forehead, soft and lingering. One on each cheek. And now, fresh and unmistakable, one smudged right on his lips.

Remy looked absolutely ruined.

His red-on-black eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, pupils blown wide as he stared at his reflection like it had personally betrayed him. A crooked, goofy smirk tugged at his mouth, the kind that only showed up when his brain had completely short-circuited.

“Uh…”

That was it. That was all his Cajun brain could muster.

You could practically see the blue screen behind his eyes as he processed the fact that yes, that was his face, and yes, you had done this to him. He looked like a drunken smitten idiot and he hadn't had a sip of anything.

After a beat, he finally exhaled a shaky little laugh and leaned into your hand without thinking, chin still resting in your fingers.

“Cher,” he muttered, voice low and dazed,

“I don’ think I remember what color is anymore.”