Theme: Appearances

Characters: Mao, Saya

Warnings: None

A/N: I have a few of these oneshots that I wrote forever ago lying around on my harddrive. I rediscovered them today and thought, hell, why not? So here is the first one :) Remember to review!

Mao narrowed her eyes in a show of intense concentration, her fingers steady as she gazed penetratingly into the mirror. "Hah," she breathed, and the tweezers she held delicately plucked the stray hair from her eyebrow. She turned her head to either side, checking her profile, before carefully picking up a soft-bristled brush and applying a thin layer of powder to her features.

Mao took great pride in her good looks. Appearances were important after all, and while she didn't have the awe-inspiring power of Saya or the brains of Julia, she had instead a beautiful-but-unattainable sort of air about her that made her just as alluring as her other female companions. She put down the brush she had been using to apply her foundation and studied her reflection carefully, dabs of water or a second layer of powder concealing any small blemishes on her fair skin. She pulled a hand through her straightened hair and smiled dazzlingly at her image, satisfied at last that she was perfect.

Walking out the door of the bathroom and into the kitchen, Mao hummed to herself as she started to prepare breakfast. Sure she'd been banned from cooking ever since she somehow managed to set her Cornflakes on fire, but hey, she was hungry, and everyone was already off working, so…

The door opened with a soft creak, and turning Mao was startled to see Saya standing there, looking, in a word, like absolute shit. Her eyes were bloodshot and hollow from lack of sleep, her clothes were ragged and stained with blood, and her hair looked like it might be housing small rodents.

Mao gaped. "Saya, what the hell happened to you?!" she spluttered. "You look horrible!"

Saya blushed, turning to grin sheepishly at the horrified human woman. "Do I really look that bad?" she said, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. "I guess I've been working so hard all week, I haven't had time to make myself look presentable."

Mao's fist smacked into the palm of her opposite hand, her eyes blazing with fire. "I'll not allow one of my friends to sit about looking like that," she declared loyally. "We, Saya, are going to have –" she paused for dramatic affect, her eyes gleaming with mad fervour – "a girl's day out!"

All Saya could think to offer was a weak "Huh?"

"That's right." Mao took charge, poking her friend here and there and studying her condition critically. "We'll get your hair done at the salon, they'll wash it there and we can buy some products for you. We've got to go to the day spa to get rid of the dirt and blood in your pores, you need to exfoliate, mere water won't go deep enough to remove all that gunk… While we're there we can get a massage and hot stones and maybe even a steam, and then we'll get back and I'll give you a proper make-over… Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

True to her word, Mao dragged Saya out the door, and after flagging a taxi, it didn't take long for the twosome to arrive at Mao's favourite spa.

("But Mao," Saya protested, "We're in Vietnam. Vietnam. Aren't you, well, Japanese?"

The woman blinked. "So?" she snapped. "Do you know who my father is? As if the minor inconvenience of having to fly in a plane every other weekend would keep me from getting the works at the best.")

"What will the madams be requesting today?" said an elderly man with a pinstripe suit and golden monocle, his upper lip curling slightly when his eyes alighted on the ghoulish looking Saya. Mao snapped her fingers irritably beneath his nose.

"We want the works," she said brusquely. "Pronto, Lionel."

The man now known as Lionel blinked. "Ah. Miss Mao, I didn't see you there. I'll add this to your tab shall I?"

"Please," said Mao, and Lionel disappeared up a gilded staircase after giving Mao shallow bow and Saya a sneer.

The next few minutes were a blur to Saya, although they were admittedly a rather pleasurable blur full of steam and vanishing aches and massages and towels and soft jungle noises and fragrant oils and heated rocks down her spine. It seemed she was only just peeling the cucumber from her eyes when she was being whisked away again, hurtling this time through the elaborate and gold-leafed doors of the hairdresser.

"The usual?" said a bored looking girl behind the marble counter, her glossy lips puckering so that a large pink bubble could escape them. Mao shook her head.

"No," she said. "I need you to do something about this, Sophia." A sheepish looking Saya was brought to Sophia's attention when Mao dramatically swept her toward the counter.

Sophia's bubble popped.

"Oh my Lordy," she breathed, taking in Saya's appearance. "Tina! Aung! Kim! An! We have a code blue people, code blue! Hut hut hut! Get moving, move, move! Code blue!"

Poor, bewildered Saya lost herself in the moisturisers and conditioners, the curling irons and styling gels, the crimpers and the blow dryers. Her hair was yanked this way and that, sloshed with liquid and folded tightly in foils, styled to within an inch of its life. Saya blinked at her reflection, but didn't get time to admire it before she was whisked away, this time back to the car so the pair could go the hotel that was Red Shield's temporary home.

Once back at their room, Saya finally had a chance to breathe when Mao began to rummage through her venerable makeup stash.

"Hold still," said Mao quietly, guiding the Chiropteran to sit on the bed while she herself settled on a chair in the space between Saya's knees. Now that they were back inside, with the light of the afternoon sun shining in tapered ribbons through the thin gauze curtains and the thin shadows of the room rippling with the wind, the two women were at ease. Off to the side, the open window let in the sweet scent of blossoms and fresh mown grass from the yard next door. Saya breathed it in, closing her eyes and smiling sweetly at the feel of soft hands massaging anti-shine cream into her face.

"I didn't get the chance to say anything before," said Saya quietly, her eyes still closed as Mao began applying some foundation base, "but thank you for doing this."

Mao's careful brush strokes didn't pause. "What are you talking about," she huffed. "As if I could let you walk around like that."

"A lot of it went over my head," the Chiropteran admitted, opening her eyes when Mao gently held her chin and begun to apply a richer powder to the arch of her cheekbone. "I've never really done anything like this before. Even when I was living as a human I never really did anything… well, girly. It was a first for me, and it was… nice."

And then – and Mao had to consciously tighten her fingers about the mascara wand or she would have dropped it and it would have stained her clothes and then she would have been ruined – Saya smiled, and she wasn't wearing any gloss, and nor were her eyes popping with mascara and tasteful eye shadow, and she wasn't even wearing any bronzer yet…

But Mao was sure that that smile couldn't be improved with even Photoshop.

The woman coughed into her fist, hoping that the blush riding her cheeks wasn't as fiery as it felt. "That's all," she said gruffly, closing the bottle of mascara with slightly more force than necessary and not saying anything when Saya cast her surprised gaze onto the mess of unused makeup littering the bed. "I- I'll get started on dinner."

"I'll help," said Saya quietly, and Mao, at last, smiled.

A/N: If you liked this keep an eye out, there's a few more drabbley things gathering dust on my harddrive that I'll be posting soon. Peace out! Gridey xx