Snake laughs in his weird way: a single 'hmmmm' that only gives his amusement away by the way the very smallest corner of his visible eye halves. It's just the sort of answer Eva would give. "Should I ask what kind of disguise." It's rhetorical. Actually asking would ruin the point of a disguise, obviously. That's okay. He's just making conversation about the only thing he really has in common with Eva, which is subterfuge (although he'd be the first one to admit she has him beat in the disguise department). He finishes tying the knot to secure the lifeboat so it'll stay in place against the side of the boat they're sneaking onto once he lets go of the rope. He lets go. The lifeboat makes a quiet knocking sound as its frame hits the side of the boat. "Anyway. You like that shade of lipstick too much. Don't think I've seen you wear anything else." Eva should be pleased. This is about the only comment Jack has ever made about actually noticing it when someone changes up their appearance. It's happened on more than one occasion where someone got a haircut and asked him if he noticed anything different and he genuinely didn't until they kindly pointed out that they had gotten their hair cut and he'd said 'hmm. looks nice.' and gone back to doing whatever he was doing. @heartinhands
She knows how he laughs. It makes her skin itch with how badly she wants to hold him down and make him smile, make him happy, in the way she can never seem to do. It's her dearest fantasy, the furthest from reality. He's not a man designed for happiness, or for dinner in Paris or a night on the town with a stop at the theatre and a bench in the park-- but she likes to imagine it. Seizing him. Changing him. He doesn't have to completely remake himself; he just needs to change for her. To make her happy, her smile. If she could be his special one, as precious to him as he is to the rest of the world...
And of course he crashes through all her daydreams like a bull through glass. "What?" she demands immediately. "You don't like it?" God damn him. This is her favourite shade. Is that what's been putting him off? She'll need to go back to the drawing board. She'll swatch as soon as this mission is over. ( As soon as this mission is over, she won't see him again for months, if not years. ) "You don't know much about makeup anyways," she adds, to spare her own injured pride. "It's not like facepaint, you know." As she speaks, she draws the lockpick from her pocket and pops open the weathered door with a flick of her wrist.