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It was early December, and Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital smelled vaguely of burnt popcorn and antiseptic creams. The fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered like they were on their last leg and about to kick the bucket.
House had left the team with a stack of lab results and a passing comment about “weird proteins", and "dodgy taste in hair products." before hobbling away with no explanation.
Chase — Robin, though no one called her that yet. Hell, no one even know she called herself that, — sat at one of the computer teminals, scanning through the results with a lightly shaking hand. Her nails were painted a soft mauve, the polish clumsy and bleeding on to the edges of her skin. Her eyeliner, — despite her best efforts — was a disaster. Smudged and streaky, just begging to be corrected.
Amber studied her from across the room. The others were off somewhere else, no doubt running somewhat illegal errands for their cane-wielding boss. That left just the two of them, and the low hum of hospital machinery.
Amber was never one to waste time. Or be subtle.
She crossed the room and leaned her weight against the desk, arms crossed.
'We need to have a chat about your face.'
Chase froze, and slowly looked up. 'Sorry?'
'Look, I've got no idea what kind of weird phase you're in. Frankly, I don't really care if it's some quarter-life crisis, or some archaic hazing from house, but you,' she gave him a once over, grimacing. 'look awful.'
Chase's gut twisted, a familiar shame rose in her stomach. Looking down, her mouth opened and closed a few times, as if she didn't know how to answer.
'I'm,' She paused. 'working on it.'
Amber's face shifted, just slightly.
'Are you.. attempting something?'
Chase hesitated; there was an opening for her to say how she was feeling. A small one, but a present one nonetheless.
But this was Amber; sharp-witted, quick to bite, — not to call the woman names.
'I'm just.. trying to feel more like myself.' She spoke quietly, then added '..whatever that ends up being.'.
Amber blinked once, then squinted and drew her folded arms closer to herself.
'Well, a pretty face like yourself deserves a hell-of-a-lot better than the trainwreck currently smeared on your face.'
Chase let out a small surprised laugh, 'It's.. harder than it looks in the tutorial videos.' she paused, quieter 'Especially when your hands are trembling.'
A pregnant pause. Chase almost stammered out an apology, but was stopped when Amber sighed.
'Well first of all, you need to find your own style.' She retrieved a small bag from out of her purse,
'Second; you've got a cracking bone structure. I'm not letting you waste it like this.'
Chase blinked, confused.
'You're not.. gonna mock me?' Amber scoffed.
'For that shit show?' She motioned at Chase's makeup. 'Yes. For you wanting to do makeup? No.' From the small bag, she pulled out wipes, and micellar water. 'Now sit still, or I'll take your eye out.' She pulled up a chair and sat in front of Chase, then quickly got to work.
Amber's hands moved confidently, with a practiced precision. She began by wiping away the old eyeliner and reapplying it with an angeled brush, then patting down new foundation, blending in the blush and giving Chase's lips a glossy sheen.
When she had finished, she angled Chase's face towards the natural light peaking through the window.
'Much better.' She declared, more to herself than Chase. 'You've got potential. A face that turns heads, probably more now. Use it.'
Chase looked in the compact mirror Amber handed her, and her breath caught.
'You look good, now don't get sappy on me.'
'You're a lot nicer when you're not constantly at people's necks.'
Amber smirked. 'Keep that to yourself. I have a reputation to uphold.' Chase didnt answer, gaze still entrapped by her face in the mirror. She broke away, and met Amber's eyes.
'Thank you, really.' Amber just shrugged,
'You're welcome.' she gathered her things. 'And Chase? Remember: Go with the shape of your face, not against it. You're not fighting it.' Chase giggled.
'Noted.' And with that, Amber got up and left.