— Chance of success: Cannot be failed.
— General results: Taylor and Amy will go on an awkward date to the movies with each other. Taylor will be happy, since she is interested in Amy and enjoys being able to get a date without using her powers, and Amy will be happy as Taylor demonstrates her interest in getting to know Amy (not Panacea). Also provides Amy a chance to destress by watching a terrible movie.
Spoiler: Stat Gains/Losses
Victoria Dallon:
+1 Lust
2.6
Spoiler: Winning Votes
[] Victoria has asked for you to meet up with her on Saturday so she can teach you makeup tips, as she wants to spend Sunday afternoon with you taking you shopping for clothes instead. You don’t appreciate Victoria pushing you so hard there, but— she knows what she’s doing, it seems.
[] You indicated to Amy that you might be able to go watch a movie with her on Saturday, around lunchtime. You’ll have to pay for it out of pocket, as it would be mean of you to expect Amy to pay for herself, but it’s a date. A proper date! With a cute girl! One you didn’t even have to use your powers to get!
[] Spend some time at home with Dad. You do have an ulterior motive— you want to get comfortable enough around him that you feel okay with asking him if you can move your room down into the basement— but beyond that, you just… you like being around him. You want to repair your relationship with him, even if it’s only in small increments. Saturday finds you awake at seven, grumpy and cold.
The first solves itself quickly. Your jogging route is getting boring, so you range out farther than you normally do, carefully extending your power out just far enough that you can feel the emotions of everyone around you. Nobody seems to be paying any attention to you, which is good—the further away you get from your house, the worse the neighbourhood gets.
Most of the money in Brockton Bay flows in from either the Docks or Downtown. The Docks offers a huge amount of the city’s laboring jobs, either directly or indirectly, while Downtown holds a lot of the city’s more profitable jobs— lawyers, doctors, businessmen, and so on. This has led to a predictable effect; people generally want to live close to where they work, so the ‘nicer’ areas of town lie around the Downtown district.
It’s not as simple as saying that the further away from Downtown you get, the safer things are. You and Dad don’t live very close to the area, but you live in a nicer bubble, a few safer blocks centered around a well-to-do daycare. The further away from your house you go, though, the worse things get.
Dad keeps telling you not to go too far away from the house, but it just feels so constricting to always be stuck in the same few areas.
The cold, unfortunately, doesn’t go away as easily. It’s not quite as bad as it was when you got up by the time you finish your jog, but once you’re back inside and heading to the shower, you find yourself on the verge of shivering again. You make sure to grab warmer clothes out of your dresser as you pass by your room and head to the shower.
Once you’re out of the shower, you head out to the dining room and turn on the coffee machine. It won’t be long until Dad wakes up, so you set out two mugs on the bench before you grab your phone off and begin replying to your good morning texts. You texted Victoria last night, but you make sure to send her another text now, just so she knows. Then you send another text to Amy, this one with entirely too many exclamation marks in an attempt to convey your excitement, reminding her that you’re going to take her out to see a movie today.
Dad wanders out a few minutes after you finish to find a freshly-prepared cup of coffee waiting for him on the side of the kitchen bench, along with two slices of buttered toast and a slapdash arrangement of what you hope resembles poached eggs.
“Thanks,” he says warily, eyeing the breakfast. You beam at him, and his gaze seems to soften as he takes a bite of the food. He manages to get it down without visibly gagging, so you chalk it up as a success and mentally pat yourself on the back before happily settling into your own breakfast, a rather less experimental combination of toast, strawberry jam and orange slices.
You eat about half of it before setting down your breakfast and nervously touching your phone. You take a few moments to gather your courage before you say, “I’m going out this morning, Dad.”
“Oh?” He quickly sets down his knife and fork, pushing his plate away. Mentally, you give the egg a sad look—you don’t think it looks that unappetizing—before you give Dad your full attention. “Seeing Madison again, are you?” he says in a gently teasing tone.
“Nooo.” You drag the word out for exaggerated effect. “Maybe later. Victoria wants to meet up this morning, so I’m going to meet up with her. She wants to help make me look pretty.” You give him a charming grin.
He raises his eyebrows. “Is that right,” he says carefully. You make a sound of affirmation, and he nods. “Alright then,” he says. “Be careful, okay, Taylor?”
You nod confidently. “Don’t worry, Dad, we’re going to stay in the mall the whole time. There’s no way anybody could hurt us there.”
Dad looks like he wants to say something, but instead he just settles for sighing and looking like he wants to pat you on the head. “That’s not— okay. Okay, Taylor. Do you need any money?”
“No.” Quickly taking a sip of coffee, you pick your toast sandwich back up. “I think she already has everything, so we don’t need to spend any money. She just wants to show me how to use some makeup.”
Scratching awkwardly at the back of his head, Dad gives you a serious look. “Okay, but if you ever need any, just tell me. I’ll find a way, okay?”
“Okay.” You’re never going to take him up on that, but you smile again at him anyway. It’s nice of him to make the offer.
With your serious conversation concluded, the two of you turn to talking about less important things, like the weather—apparently it’s going to rain on Monday according to the weatherman on TV, although you have your doubts. That man gets the weather wrong more often than he gets it right, so it’s usually a safe bet to assume the weather is going to be the opposite of whatever he predicts it will be.
Come nine, you make sure you have your phone, wallet and keys before you change into a nicer jacket and head out. The cold hits you again, but it’s less severe by now. Just keeping your hands in your pockets and pulling your hood over your head keeps you warm enough not to mind the temperature too much in the time it takes the bus to arrive and take you to the mall.
Once there, you send a text to Victoria letting her know you’ve arrived, then head up to into the mall. Your phone buzzes while you’re still on the escalator. It’s a simple message, letting you know that she’s waiting by the juice bar.
Sure enough, she is waiting there, dressed in civilian clothes like she was on Wednesday, although you’re pretty sure she’s wearing makeup again. You peer at her face as you walk up, trying to figure out how she looks different. Is it her eyes, or— you can tell she’s wearing foundation and lipstick, but you can’t tell what she’s actually done with them.
There’s a strange stirring in your gut, and as you wave at her, you try to place it. She waves back, a grin splitting her face, and you hurry up to her, although you don’t move in for a hug—not in public. Victoria can’t hide here; she’s too public a figure. If you do anything that could indicate your relationship with her here, there’s a good chance it could end up on camera, and neither of you would appreciate that.
“Hi,” you greet her lamely.
She pokes her tongue out at you and pats the seat beside her, which you slide into. “Hi,” she says teasingly, causing your cheeks to flush as she makes light fun of your greeting. “Do you want a drink before we get started?”
You shake your head. “No, thank you. I’m not thirsty.”
“Your loss,” she shrugs. “I’ve ordered a blueberry smoothie, so once it gets here, we’ll head off. We’re just going to go to a local boutique, if that’s okay with you?” She waits for you to nod before she continues, “The owner there owes me a favour, so she’s agreed to let us use one of her back rooms for an hour. We’ll just have to pick you up some makeup first.”
“Wait, pick me up some?” You give her an alarmed look. “You don’t already have it? Victoria, I already feel bad enough about the clothes-“
She takes your hands firmly between her own, gently rubbing your knuckles with her own. “Hey,” she says soothingly. “It’s okay, Taylor. Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry about it?” Your frustration must show on your face, because she frowns, but you push on before she can say anything. “How can I help but worry about it? Makeup is expensive, Vicky, there’s a reason I never bothered to learn how to apply it myself.”
Victoria nods. “It’s expensive, yeah,” she admits. “But I’ve already got a lot of money saved away. This isn’t even a quarter of my paycheque, and I want to spend some of it on you.”
“I don’t want you to, though,” you complain. “I can’t afford to pay you back.”
“Then don’t.” She shrugs. “This isn’t a loan, Taylor, it’s a gift to help my g— my friend feel better about herself. You don’t need to worry about paying me back, any more than you would if I were to pay to take you to a restaurant.”
It still rubs you the wrong way. “I should be paying for my own stuff,” you whine, pouting at her.
She shrugs. “If you can pay for it, then pay for it,” she says. “But I doubt you can afford what we need to buy, unless you have a few hundred dollars stashed away.” Your eyes bulge—she’s planning to spend hundreds of dollars here?! “If you do, then fine, you can pay for your own stuff, although I’ll still pay for mine. But if you can’t, then let me pay for it. Okay?”
It still stings. You don’t have anything you can offer in rebuttal, but you still stubbornly shake your head. Finally, she lets out an aggravated groan.
“Look,” she says, “it’s not a big deal. You can pay me back if you want.” She glances around, making sure nobody is in earshot or listening in, before leaning in to murmur into your ear, “I take payment in kisses and dinners.”
That’s just unfair, and by the naughty grin she sports as she pulls back, she knows it. You can’t stay angry at her after that.
“Fine,” you say, pouting angrily. Her grin grows wider, which makes you pout even more sulkily. Before she can say anything, though, a harried-looking attendant hurries over, bearing a large blue-purple smoothie. He hurries away without saying a word, but the interruption thoroughly spoils the moment.
“Excellent!” she says cheerfully. “Ready to go, then?”
You sulk along behind her as she leads you through the mall and over to a surprisingly large and well-decorated store. A large neon sign above reads Bec’s Beauty Boutique in what could have been considered an attractive font twenty years ago, but the storefront within is rather more modern, with attractive wide glass windows allowing you to peer in and a neat, orderly feel to the store.
You glance around the store as Victoria drags you in, your anger dissipating in the face of the women around here. Your face burns, and you step closer to Victoria as she talks to the boutique’s owner, ducking your face to try and hide your embarrassment. It feels like everyone is looking at you.
It’s a relief to feel Victoria pulling you into the back room, away from the stares of the other women. She pats you reassuringly on the back several times, and it does help a little, but you have to close the door to the room and flick the room’s lights on before you can really begin to settle down. She does give you a flat stare when you close the door, but after she sighs and turns some fans in the roof on, you don’t feel too bad about it.
“Alright,” she says, gesturing for you to walk over to her. You do so, and she swings around a chair, gesturing for you to sit in it. The chair is placed right in front of a mirror, but for now, she doesn’t turn your chair so you can see yourself in it. She keeps you turned towards her as she pulls over another chair, then begins rifling through an assortment of plastic tubs and tubes on the bench. “Okay,” she says eventually. “Are you ready to start?”
You nod, so she finally swings your chair around as she moves closer, allowing you to half-see your face in the mirror.
“First off is foundation,” she instructs you.
She spends the next two hours giving you a solid grounding in how to apply makeup. It’s a lot more complicated than it appears to be.
Foundation makes your skin look smoother and hides the small blemishes on your face, but getting the colour right is tricky. Apparently, your face has “pinkish undertones”, whatever that means. You’re glad that she’s the one handling this, because you’re already lost.
After that comes concealer, dabbed around your lips. It seems strange at first, but Victoria explains it simply enough; she’s concealing your natural lipline, because it makes your mouth look too wide. After it’s concealed, she traces over your lips with a lip-liner brush, slightly exaggerating your upper and lower lips while making your mouth seem narrower than it really is. When she’s done, your mouth still looks too thin and too wide, but not nearly as much as it did before.
You take careful note of what she’s doing. You can’t rely on having her around every morning to apply this for you, at least not yet, and it’d be humiliating if you had to ask someone else to do your makeup for you anyway.
