A/N: Sorry for how blindingly short this is, haha. It just felt awkward to continue this chapter any further.
It was always sorer in the morning. That's the way it always was. The pain had changed this time; instead of being a bee sting, a constant stab, it was more like a constant throb. Lancer felt fatter than he believed, felt more bloated more than he believed. It was as if his torso and limbs had covered themselves in an extra land of hypersensitivity. It was this hypersensitivity that took him one hour to get out of bed.
The stash was always hidden in his empty dresser drawer. He knew no one would look there, considering the hotel of spiders it had become over the years. Making sure to lock the door before he began, he sighed just a little, the smile still on his face from a pervading joke he'd thought of as soon as he'd gotten out of bed. The foundation, then the concealer, then a little bit of powder, each of them the palest in the store, all bought while he was disguised in a regular t-shirt and jeans, which was much harder than it sounded since everyone in the castle insisted that everything must be top-of-the-line.
It throbbed more than ever, but Lancer knew he had to be strong. He wanted to be just like Dad, and Dad was the strongest person he knew. He stared at his hands and his face in the mirror, almost in awe. Only someone really, really strong could do something like this! He wanted to be just like him!
But just to his enemies.
And what wasn't strong at all? Showing what was wrong with him. His father could be dealing with some of the worst things in the world. His father could even be going out to the town himself, getting his own stash of makeup! Lancer's grin changed from humorous to daring. As the concealer came on his face and his hands, then the foundation, then the powder, the smile still went on his face, although the foundations were slightly wrinkled.
He was about to show his dad how alright he was, how strong he was, how ready he was to conquer what the world had ahead of him when he noticed his father sleeping on his throne, oblivious to everything he was doing. The attendant trying to fan him awake looked at Lancer for a moment, as if he noticed Lancer was having a limp. But Lancer bit his cheeks just a little, inhaled just a little sharper, and walked as normally as he could. After muttering a swear word or two, the attendant continued to try to wake him. But it was no use. There were four empty glasses of ale surrounding the throne, still colder than the popsicles Lancer loved to eat as a child. The snoring alone was enough to drown out all of the pleadings of the attendant. His father was asleep… but still, Lancer could do something.
Lancer kissed the top of his father's head for a moment. "Bye, Dad. I love you. I'll be home for dinner, okay?"
The king didn't respond, but stirred just a little. Lancer practically pounced out of the castle.