DATE & TIME: february 20th, 3:45pm LOCATION: the louvre, backstage dressing room STATUS: closed for @llenore
“hey, c’mon - don’t look so sad, i didn’t even fuck anything up yet.” a small grin, all lopsided. the cold air hits bare skin but he barely shivers, merely pads towards the girl in the back of the room, pushing aside the brushes and palettes on the vanity before him to sit on the surface, feet swinging slightly.
he doesn’t wait for the girl to speak, merely tugs at her hands instead, putting palms on top of smaller ones, calloused all the same. “c’mere, stop with all the fucking weeping - ‘s place is overrated as shit anyways, hm? you’re gonna ruin your makeup like that ‘nd laurel’ll will have your head. here, close your eyes - “ he looks at her, eyebrows arched, expectant. “c’mon, humour me. close ‘em. good?”
when he’s satisfied, he pulls out the small paper from the back of his costume, placing it into palms and folding hands over them carefully. “for you. ‘m not sure if i spelt everything right, but it’s the thought the counts or some fuck. don’t tell emme i used all her glitter, hm?”










