A/N: Thank you to fanfic. addicted01 for comments!


She needs something.

It's an honest, crystal-clear realization that hits her when she glances at her image in the mirror.

She has been up for hours because the upcoming preparations for the trip are taking almost all her time. Now that they have a clear target, it's much easier to hoard the history to study. But even with the early morning - even earlier than Jacob - she doesn't look like waking up from a ditch or having pulled an all-nighter. She just looks - plain.

Her skin is pretty fresh despite small scars here and there. She doesn't look too weary. And she looks a bit more innocent without the eyeliner that she started using during one break from school because it seemed like a nice response to the other girls' attitudes and restricted sense of fashion.

God, she had been such an emo kid.

But, right now, when she still eyes her face when drying off her hands, her heart longs for something else.

She is going to spend the whole day with Jacob in London, and... she could look nice. I mean for her own sake, really, naturally.

She has to rummage through the small bathroom cupboard behind the first aid kits and toilet paper rolls to reach her old maroon-colored make-up bag that she bought sometime in her teenage years. Roth had never really fully known what to say to her growing up other than let her make her own decisions, but she had been very determined not to make any clutter in his house when he had been kind enough to give her a roof over her head during the holidays.

The foundation and lipstick still seem to be okay even after thirteen months. The chemical smell is a little there, but it's just one day. Originally, she had bought them for a night out with Sam, just to show some effort. Unfortunately, Sam had gotten a panic attack and they had had to cancel the plans that never then became their last night together before Sam had left England - and her.

She tries not to grimace too badly at the upsetting memory and puts her determination into shaking the bottle before taking a little on her fingertip.

She isn't sure how the trip to London is going to go, but she is kind of compelled to go. It would give her more time to talk with Jacob. Yes, she had him all to herself pretty much 24/7, but... they were still working, focused on the goal, and... maybe she could learn more about him in the new neighborhood.

The foundation covers her scars and small imperfections nicely even if the age of the thing gives her a little too matte, too mask-like appearance, making her happy that at least she didn't apply it thickly.

She is already aiming towards her normal eyeliner when biting her lip and taking the softer tone. She is going to be more approachable today, nice to be around, a good time.

It actually looks quite nice, a little more adult and less 'I'm here to be your worst nightmare' -type-ish.

They better not run into any paparazzi or Trinity. She just wants a nice day with Jacob.

Jacob to whom she might have begun to develop feelings.

On the roof, he had seemed so human, so at a loss that even if she had known that he had had to have seen so much more in his life than she could ever even imagine, it had gnawed on her heart a little.

And he was always joking with her, giving her his time and interest without hurry.

He had a good heart.

She chastises herself not for the first time in the past week. For a brief second her gut had tried to tell her that Jacob's long touches might not be just for her sake, but then she had managed to shake herself out of it. Jacob was here to help: the future of his people, of his whole life's work, not to mention his daughter's future, were on the line. Moreover, all those things were dependent on their fighting skills, the plan they could form against Trinity - he probably had no time or interest in something as silly as a romance.

So, she had sucked it up and decided to continue on the same path, push and leave her feelings into some disregarded locker with all the guilt and doubt over what she had become in general. Things that, against the psychiatrist's fears, she didn't shun away, but things that she sometimes took out to poke a little, just to keep herself aware of them before not letting them affect her decisions too much.

It had worked fine so far, hadn't it?

But not believing in the lucky stars didn't stop her from trying though, and she turns her head to inspect her work.

Lipstick. Definitely needing lipstick.

The Remnants didn't seem to use make-up, but if Sofia's braids were any indication, they weren't immune to fashions and status.

She tests the nude color with a hint of orange on the back of her hand before putting it on her lips.

It looks wrong. Ghastly. She stares at her image before quickly reaching for a piece of tissue and rubbing the color off. The only reason why she had bought it in the first place was that red hues had been out of the question so that they wouldn't evoke any face covered in blood -connotations in Sam.

But she hadn't bought lipstick since...

She checks her watch to guess if Jacob might already be ready to go.

She has time, she has time - she has to have something else.

The meager make-up bag offers her no relief, making her swear silently and turn her attention to the mirror cabinets without any more luck.

She bites her lower lip which is already a bit red and puffy from rubbing off the color.

She stares at her reflection, gnawing on her lip a bit more as she tries to think of a better solution.

After a moment of furious brainstorming, a lamp clicks in her head and reminds her of the darker, consciously bold but still restrained lipstick that she got when she was about to meet Atlas to settle her rights with her family's fortune. She had been so pissed at the man, hoping to eradicate him from her life like any Trinity soldier, but she had managed to keep her cool - after all, she had already won. The lipstick had sat unopened for the very same reason, going into the meeting as true to herself as she could to showcase that had the nerve and because she knew that natural, unpolished, appearance would tick her (ex-)uncle off.

So, the lipstick had to be …in the briefcase.

The years of having to be extra conscious of her surroundings give her the edge to reason that Jacob must be in the kitchen and won't be there to witness when she is running through the halls after a piece of superficiality. And she is fast, and stealthy, and very pleased with herself when she comes back to the bathroom with the small tube.

The color makes as clear a statement as she remembered from the small shop, causing her to smile widely to test the effect.

For the small excitement that it creates in her chest - even though it won't probably matter a bit to Jacob despite the man's sharp eyes - she decides that she'll let it stay, even if just for her own sake, really.