Faith stood before a mirror, applying concealer where she could. Snagging it from Aisha had been easy; the woman was so softhearted.

But it was soon apparent that Faith didn't know shit about makeup. Sure, it should have been simple. Cover the zits and scars and whatever else that makes you look less than perfect.

It was a little harder with bruises.

"Damn it," she hissed, having rubbed on too much. It was frighteningly obvious that she was covering something up, and rubbing frantically at it with a tissue only made her skin redden.

"Do you need help?"

She was startled by the sound of Noah's warm voice from behind her back. She glanced at his face, smiling and uncertain, before turning back to the cracked mirror.

"I don't think you'd be much assistance," she tossed back, trying to push her hair just so and cover all the blue spots.

Noah didn't miss his movement, and he was on her in a second. Gently pushing her hair away, he gazed at the hodgepodge of bruises decorating his protégées face and frowned.

"How did you get these?" He asked, very softly, having not spotted them earlier in his joy to see her. She shrugged and shifted under his touch.

"Jail wasn't fun," she murmured, glancing up at him from under her lashes. "Believe it or not, they don't like runners very much."

His face flushed with fury, and she remembered what it felt like to have someone care. The taste of something other than self-pity was a welcome one, and something she hadn't experienced often while imprisoned.

"Well," Noah said, attempting to calm himself down with great effort. "I could still help. I used to do someone named Rebecca's makeup."

Faith remembered the women he spoke of. She had been the first to show Faith how to load a gun.

He took the tube of concealer from her hand and squirted some onto the tip of his ring finger. Gently, he began to apply the makeup.

"Why are you bothering anyway?" He asked, sticking his tongue out in concentration. "None of the other runners would mind a few bruises."

She thought of lying but decided not to bother. He would find out soon anyway.

"I'm going to see Dogan," she said, closing her eye as his finger came close to it. "Thought I might as well look alright. Show him the slammer didn't screw me up too bad, you know?"

Noah's finger had frozen at the name, but after a moment it began moving once more.

"I don't trust him," the man muttered, his eyes narrowing. "You shouldn't either. Remember that. I'm not going to Insist you stay, you won't listen, but be careful and stay on comms with me the whole time."

"What, do you think he'll try something? I can defend myself."

Noah finished and turned on the faucet to begin washing his fingers. "I know you can. But it will make me feel better."

Her hand brushed his neck as she slung her arm around it. "If you say so, boss."

He shot her a look and she smirked, holding up her hands in mock surrender.