starmark | IC Inbox | rubycity_rp

...Make me a deal, then?

[He tries his best to listen, really listen, and as he does his expression starts to soften up again. Polnareff, then, is like him — maybe in some ways even more reserved than him, which is deceptive from the personality traits he plays up and the way he'll sometimes act. Polnareff is like him, similar to the way he is when it comes to navigating a relationship: there's that weird external weight of "normal" that exerts its force on things, and Polnareff attunes to it.

Okay. Yeah. Yeah, okay.]

...When you're ready to talk — if, I mean. If, when, whenever. Just...trust me to listen, that's all I'm asking. Believe in me.

[He shifts a little closer, though without fully closing the space.]

And if you want to hear me talk, then I'll talk. Be your Sherpa. Only when you want it, if that's what you want. Okay?

[The allusion to the familiar joke is oddly reassuring, and he exhales a little laugh, soothed by it of all things.]

. . . yeah.

[That's easy to do. Trust me, Jotaro says, and that-- he can do that. Even now, he can do that. He's done it once already, confessing his attraction; he can do it again, when the time comes, if it ever does. Because Jotaro--

They give each other shit all the time. But when the chips come down, when it really matters, Jotaro has always been there. Every nightmare, every desperate clinging hug, every fight, both physical and emotional-- Jotaro has always had his back. So trusting him? Yeah. He can do that.

Polnareff nods, meeting Jotaro's eyes as he does-- and that shift closer is welcome, so Polnareff does as well, until they're tangled up again, just far enough he can still see his face.]

What was it like, wearing it?

Mm. I kept breathing through my mouth because I could feel it on there. Like —

[Hmm. He settles in, leans a little more heavily against Polnareff.]

You know when someone says "don't think about blinking", and then suddenly you can't do it without thinking anymore? It's like that. Like you can't just...not think about your mouth anymore.

Seems like it'd get on everything, too. Cigarettes, beer cans. Just trying to talk it feels like you'd smear half of it across your face by mistake.

[He hums softly in agreement, because-- yeah, it does seem like that, and yet girls don't do that (probably?) so clearly they've got to have some kind of secret technique going on. Or maybe it's just when you start really smearing it-- like, pressing your hand against it and rubbing-- is when it comes off. Who can say? The world of cosmetics is a mysterious one.]

Oughta experiment. Get back to me on that. Cuz I mean, if you can't have a cigarette or a beer, what's the point.

[A beat, and then:]

You oughta show me sometime. If you want.

Maybe it dries out? After a while, or something. Or like — when you drizzle chocolate on ice cream and it freezes into a shell? Maybe it does that if you leave it on long enough.

[GUYS TRY TO UNDERSTAND BEAUTY PRODUCTS]

...I have one of those eye things, too. The pencils. I just got Star to draw it on, it's hard to do it with one eye closed and your hand hard to keep steady.

[...]

You want to see it right now? I can have him go grab it. Or later, some other time, if you'd rather just hang out.

[He hesitates-- and then, impulsively:]

Show me.

[He likes this between them, yeah-- but they can have both. They can do both, old and new, doing old things and new things all at once.]

Okay.

[And he doesn't move, because he doesn't have to; as suggested, Star does it all for him, first by manifesting in the middle of the room, and then by zipping into the bathroom that they share, presumably to riffle around in whatever hiding place Jotaro had created for his personal cosmetic items and return with them securely in hand.

It's almost laughable how there isn't much — a tube of lipstick, an eyeliner pencil, and a couple of loose sponges. But there they are, all collected in a plastic ziplock bag, dangling from Star's purple fingers like precious cargo when they're really not.]

Okay, so.

[At his silent command, Star sets the bag down and fishes out the lipstick, uncapping and twisting the tube and brandishing it in his giant hand.]

I think it's got that like...point on it, so you can draw with it like a pen, kind of? So — c'mon, Star, like the last time — he draws around the outside first, aah 'en co'ors ih ihh...

["And then colors it in", probably — which is exactly what Star has just set to doing.]

[You'd think, with all the girls he's slept with, with having a sister, he'd know a little more about how makeup is applied-- but this is the first time he's seen it. Polnareff watches with fascination-- both because of the process itself, but also because it's Star doing the bulk of the work. (Could Chariot do that, he thinks, but no, he'd probably just end up wielding it like a very stubby sword).]

Huh.

[When he thinks lipstick, he thinks bright red, like a fire engine, so it's a little odd to see something so pale on Jotaro's lips. It doesn't . . . exactly fit, the color, but on the other hand it's not, like, black, and it isn't as if Polnareff knows any better. And it looks . . . strange, honestly, because it's a shock to see something like that on Jotaro's face-- but it's not bad. He offers up half a grin in clear approval.]

Eyes next. Go on.

[For a second, just one, his impulse is to tease: you're really getting into this, aren't you, he could say, and almost does, until he sees the intent look in Polnareff's eyes and the smile on his face as Star is finishing up, and — no, this isn't the time for joking. That is, at least not ones that run the risk of coming at Polnareff's expense. At himself, that's another story, but for now, this needs to be for Polnareff. Free and open for Polnareff, to just...get used to it, however he wants to, at his own pace.

When he's finished — and arguably having laid the color on a little too thick, but of course he doesn't really know any better — Star re-caps the lipstick and sets it aside in favor of the pencil, which rapidly gets aimed at Jotaro's eyes. It's a shame to have to close them and surrender to not being able to see Polnareff's face for a minute or two, but such is the necessity of the process, and in a second or two he can feel the sharp, distant-uncomfortable drag of pencil along the edge of his eyelid near the lash line.]

Sho 'en this, I guesh it makes your eyes look...longer? Or shtand out more. Shome'ing like that. I'unno.

[Lipstick feels so weird.]

I'unno.

[More a noise than a real word, and it sounds a little detached-- but he's watching the process with just as much fascination. His issues-- with all of it, really, with makeup and skirts and attraction and everything, all of it, that giant umbrella of Stuff that he's just starting to understand-- are entirely to do with himself and perceptions of normality. Seeing Jotaro do these things isn't going to fix things, not entirely, because his problem isn't with Jotaro, but society as a whole.

But it helps, to see this. To look at someone who's not so sure of himself either, someone Polnareff knows and understands on an intimate level, and see it happen.]

What if you just talked normal? I mean, it's on both your lips, so all it'll do is just get on your lips more, right?

Feelsh like it'll get on my teesh.

[In another few seconds, though, Star finishes up and retreats, and Jotaro flutters his eyelids open slowly, trying to relax his expression into resting normal before turning to look straight at Polnareff with his basic, amateurish lined eyes that manage to make the green come out greener, and the peach-orange lips that truthfully look garish but at the very least are carefully shaped into a classic cupid's bow.]

...So. There it is.

[He can, actually, see the difference in how Jotaro's eyes look-- there's something extra there, some kind of emphasis. Is it because he was presented with the direct before-and-after, or is he just so unused to seeing girls with makeup that he never realized how much that shit actually emphasized? Possibly both.

Jotaro looks-- different. It's not a criticism, just an observation. It's strange, knowing him one way and then seeing this. Like-- like, it's his face, but off. Or something. Polnareff stares for a few seconds-- and okay, it's impossible for his eyes to not dart about Jotaro's face, to really look at him.]

The eyes are better.

[Wait, shit--]

I mean-- just-- I like them. Both. But I like your eyes more.

It's kind of...um. Alice Cooper, kind of? You know, the dark around the eyes so you notice them more.

[He holds still, content to just let Polnareff look, and tries his best not to purse his lips even though the feeling of the color sticking to them is, as predicted, weird and fiddly to experience.]

I don't really like the mouth. But the eyes are all right. It feels...a little heavy? But I think if you did it a lot you'd get used to that. Other than that you can't feel it. That one I think I'd be okay with doing more often, the eyes.

Yeah. Just don't go overboard, I don't think you could pull off all that smeared black shit he does.

[The question is on the tip of his tongue, awfully uncertain, and he bites it back. Instead:]

So-- you gonna wear it? I mean, like . . . day to day.

I want to look punk rock, not punk raccoon.

[He blinks rapidly a few times, in quick flicks that suggest the action is entirely reflexive and mostly involuntary, which probably goes to support his claim of the heaviness on his eyes being something he's trying to adjust to.]

I don't know, though. Probably not? Maybe just...once in a while, or something. Like for a change. To be a little out of the ordinary, or something.

Oh, yeah, that's what you need: to stand out more. Who's Jotaro Kujo, that's what I have to ask myself half the time, I can't remember who the hell you are because you're so boring--

[All that's a murmur, out of his mouth without any real input from his brain, said while he leans in to get a better look. Makeup isn't something he's ever really thought about, honestly-- not beyond a vague thought of that's a bright lipstick or whatever. He's certainly never thought about the application of it. So it's fascinating to look at, and it's equally fascinating to study it on Jotaro.

It's really done very neatly. Well done, Star.

And again, he wants to ask, and-- well, when has he ever been anything but impulse, so:]

Are you allowed to share that, or's it like a double-dip situation?

[Which is a very big question disguised as a very minor one, actually.]

...Um. I mean, I got into my great-grandma's stuff once and had it all over my face and it didn't kill me or anything, so.

[He pauses, and superficially seems to be processing the question, except that beneath the surface he's actually processing the deeper implications — because as much as he's struck out and tripped on his face already in this conversation, this time at least he thinks he's got a pretty good handle on where this line of questioning goes.

So he drags it out on the pretense of reminiscing first, then deliberately pushes it back into the realm of normalcy, and groups it together in with other things, casual things, guy things that they already do and have done and are doing even at this very minute.]

Besides. It can't be that much different than passing around the same cigarette. If you're gonna catch something from me, you're already fucked a couple dozen drags over.

[Um, Jotaro says, and it's nothing, really, just a moment of thought as he tries to remember, except that um nearly stops him in his tracks. Um, and he nearly scrambles back, laughs and plays it off until he's back into the realm of things he safely knows.

Except it's stupid to be afraid of a fucking pencil. Stupider still that his eyes dart up, making sure both doors are closed, that they're firmly alone, but they are, and that's more comforting than he wants to say. There's no one in this house that would give either of them shit for this, but-- still. Better to be alone.]

So put it on me. Or get Star to do it, he's better than you--

[He meets Jotaro's gaze as he says it, and-- god, but let him go along with it. Let there be no knowing gazes, no patronizing little smile that means a-HA. It's not that he thinks Jotaro himself would do such things, but-- none of this fear or reluctance is about how he knows people would act. It's how they might that scares the hell out of him.]

Sure.

[And he simply thumbs idly at the edge of his lips, frowning a little at the patch of skin on the side where some of the color has smudged away as a result.

Star, meanwhile, is as eager as ever, but Star is always eager and his hands, though wide and powerful, are in this moment precise and light. One touches gently on the underside of Polnareff's chin, as much to prepare him and prompt him to close his eyes as to help keep his head steady, and Jotaro silently offers Star some guidance down their connection to go light and understated, baby steps, in the application when it commences.]

[Funny, how you get used to things. Half a year ago and he might have stiffened at Star's touch-- not out of conscious fear, but simple instinct. Now, though, after pudding adventures and independence lessons, after all he's been through with Star-- he simply moves with Star's gentle prompting, tipping his head up and closing his eyes, trusting the Stand just as much as the user.]

All this--

[He has to say this, and he hates that he does, but--]

You won't tell anyone.

Tell anyone what?

[Polnareff can't see him, he knows, and maybe that's for the better, because his own lined eyes slide open and flit up anyway — a deliberate gaze that lands and holds on Polnareff's face, that resonates in the emphatic innocence applied liberally to his tone.

It's uncanny, his ability to put the sound of a shrug into words, but he does it.]

I sat around listening to you snore all night. You should close your mouth when you sleep, you know, so you won't drool so much.

Go fuck yourself. I've seen you sleep, I know what you're like, don't start something you don't wanna finish--

[Amiably said, but there's a little smile on his lips as he says it. Thank god for Jotaro Kujo, he thinks again, and maybe he'll write that on his birthday card come next February.

It doesn't take long-- it's just two lines, after all-- before Star is releasing him. Polnareff blinks, resists the urge to try and rub his eyes.]

It does feel heavy.

[Not as weird as he would have thought, though.]

Yeah. But not really a bad heavy? Just heavy.

[He hesitates, then absentmindedly reaches up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smudging the color away while he regards Polnareff with a look of his own.]

...I. I notice your eyes a lot more now. Because it's a little darker right above them now, it makes the color stand out more.

[dere dere]

They are nice eyes.

[He blinks again-- and okay, he can't resist, so: Chariot emerges, floating above Polnareff, ignoring Jotaro for the moment. He offers the bellguard of his rapier as a mirror-- Polnareff could just go to the bathroom, yeah, but this works well enough.]

Huh.

[Murmured, and he squints his eyes, tipping his head this way and that. A beat, and then he meets Jotaro's eyes with a little smirk.]

Looks that good, huh?

Don't get so full of yourself.

[So: yes, probably. It's amateurish, of course, and could be done a lot better with a surer, more practiced hand, but if Polnareff were worried about Jotaro's expression looking smug or knowing or self-satisfied, then he has absolutely nothing to worry about.

Because what he is, for just that one flicker of a moment, is — appreciative, almost, and open, and a little bit vulnerable. For one flash of a second, Jotaro Kujo looks like nothing save an eighteen-year-old kid with a peach-orange halo of remnant lipstick smudged around the skin surrounding his mouth, expressionless like he's forgotten to think about putting one on in favor of just existing as he is.]

...Maybe for your next trick you should learn how to draw on some eyebrows.

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silvercrusader - 2016-06-26 22:14 (UTC) - Expand

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