“You’ll just have to get creative with it,” he says when she mentions his beard, fingers grappling around his jaw and ignores the way parents stare at this grown man taking his seat to get his face painted. Frankly, he’s received judgment for much worse, much more questionable choices.
He didn’t realize how dangerously close he’d have to be to Devery, just as he didn’t realize how long this was actually going to take (time is less of an issue— his concern lies more with deciding between having to get comfortable with silence or finding something to talk about that won’t end in either of them leaving with a half of his face vandalized), and it takes everything in him not to feel his skin burn at the mere thought of her hands on his face or her eyes on his eyes or any part of her bleeding into any part of him.
He winces at the cold, wet contact of the bristles against his skin, blinking rapidly when she starts to make small movements with the brush. “I’m cool with unorthodox. Just don’t draw a penis on my face, and we’re good.” He keeps his chin tilted so that at least the glare from the sun could blind him, then it’ll be an excuse enough not to look. There’s a dry chuckle rattling between his ribs, like rusty nails and dust, at her flimsy attempt at banter. “I can’t tell if that’s supposed to be insulting for the Magistrate or for me, for joining the Magistrate.”
He doesn’t bother trying to return the question; it’ll border too closely on small talk, and that’s not what he swallowed his pride just to get here for. Instead, he carefully tries to assess her through small peeks, sparingly, and never too long to mistake it for staring. He breathes a sharp inhale through his nose, turning his face towards her hand. “Are you still wearing the same lotion?” It comes out cheeky because he tries to be, because she seems like she’s in one of her better moods, and this is the only way he knows how to express sincerity the way proper words never could for him. That is to say, he’s trying to be sweet.
That is to say, what he really means is, I don’t want you to shut me out.
She let out a gasp of faux offense before nudging him playfully. “This is a family event, Balian. I am nothing if not wholesome.” She said and wrinkled her nose at him before continuing her masterpiece. She then shrugged flippantly before going back to dip into the blue. “I suppose if I can hit two birds with one stone then why not?” She said, arching a brow. There was no heat behind her words though, just a haughty lilt that he probably was used to when she tried to be condescending.
It was hard to be condescending though when you’re in charge of the face painting booth.
She didn’t even realize how close they were, not till she found herself counting the freckles dusting his nose, or noticing the fact that he still smelled the same.
She blinked at him once... twice... before clearing her throat at his question. “I do.” She said, mostly out of shock that he managed to remember. She looked at him with quiet regard before narrowing her eyes and gripping at his chin once more to have him stop moving. “You probably only remember because I threw a whole jar at you that one time we fought.” She attempted to joke, not wanting to confront this warm feeling inside her that relished in the fact that he had indeed remembered.
