Bold || Nadica & Travis
Nadica had been in Sephora more times than she could count. She loved the store and chose to visit for personal reasons frequently. She knew exactly what colors worked with her skin tone and her eyes. She had grown comfortable with the products, but today was different. She held two feathers in her fingers, one a bright blue and the other a lighter shade of the same. She had agreed to do make-up for a client, much to her nervousness. She was decent at make-up of course, it was a necessary aspect of her job, but her client had very specific and peculiar tastes. The young woman was requesting three costume changes, one that was modern and with natural make-up, one in her wedding gown, and the last with her bridesmaids and a play with the color scheme of the wedding: blue and grey. Nadica had agreed, wanting to give the woman everything she desired for her wedding, but when the woman had asked for Nadica to play with bold looks and blue throughout the face, well..she was out of her comfort zone.
She bit her lip as she fingered a few samples of eye shadows in different shades of blue, comparing the pigmentation on the product to the feathers in her fingers. Why anyone would want feathers in their hair for a bridesmaid shoot was beside her, but who was she to question her client? She would give the woman what she wanted and work with what she had. She could make the shots beautiful, that was no problem. What was a problem was the make-up. She sighed, running her fingers through her blonde locks, willing an answer to just come to her. She had an eye for beauty, an eye for perfect locations, an eye for adjusting lighting, but make-up? She wore the basics and kept it natural, she had no eye for that. She wasn’t a make-up artist by any means, and she had told her client this, suggesting they hire a make-up artist to do the job, but the woman had insisted Nadica do it.
Her eyes wandered across the shelf when she felt the presence of another behind her. She turned, her eyes meeting a gentleman’s. She was shocked to find the man in the store, but didn’t comment on it. She gave him an easy smile, her cheeks reddening slightly. “I’m sorry, am I in your way?” She asked, shifting so that the man might be able to examine the products she had just been viewing. She hoped for his sake that he had better luck than she had. She didn’t think switching to a different shop would help, she’d run into the same problems at MAC or anywhere else. The products were at her disposal, it wasn’t their fault she didn’t know what she was doing. Maybe she could call Ivanka, but then, would the other girl have any more of a clue? Iva’s make-up seemed pretty natural to Nadica too. She gave the man an uneasy smile as she let her eyes wander across the shelves and then back down to her feathers.
"No, not at all," he said, waving the near-collision off with good humor.
A long silence stretched between them, the kind reserved for strangers that didn't feel like socializing, but the more it lingered the more Travis wanted to break it. He could see the nervousness in her, even though she was in a shop that generally catered to women like her; a pretty young thing, conventionally beautiful with a soft face and blonde treated hair. Something about the way she acted niggled at the back of his mind, though, triggering a predatory urge in him.
Low self-esteem.
He loved it when pretty women had low self esteem, like a lion loved an injured gazelle that was separated from the herd. Easy pickings. A few under-handed compliments went a long way with a girl like that - neg her a little to put her off balance, as pickup artists were wanton to do - and went to work on her;
"Blue, huh?" he asked, tone skeptical, hinting at critical. Looking at the feathers in her hands and the samples dabbed on her pale skin, he could tell exactly why she was nervous; she didn't want to try any of it on, in case she fucked it up and looked like a fool in the middle of a public place. It was a really British attitude, wanting to avoid any situation that might cause any hint of embarrassment. It was a country hell-bent on saving face by not trying in the first place...
"Careful with that - wouldn't want you looking super dead," he paused. "...Or really hooker-ish."
