Coldsnap: The Billionaire Alpha's Fated Pregnant Princess (GL) Chapter 290 - Shoot Day: Sheer Makeup

"It wasn’t anything special. What I did was just the basic decency of a passing adult."

I’m starting to think bringing out here was just an excuse to talk. The woman sighed at while adjusting her own clothes. A mustard and burnt orange geotric pattern in the fabric actually complented her dark skin tone quite well.

> Kind of want to take a photo... <

"Maybe to you. But she told how you handled it - getting their parents involved and in trouble. Not just scaring them off once... but shining enough light on consequences to make sure it actually stopped."

"I’ll have to stress again that I consider that basic decency. I am not so virtuous that I could claim to save every child in the city, but when I see one I’ve t before in clear trouble..."

Her expression grew even more serious as I trailed off. Maybe I shouldn’t have said *clear*... the adorable girl may have downplayed it to her! I too rember a ti when I would minimize a situation to my brother when caught.

And a lot of ti of not telling *anyone* anything, no matter how dangerous of a thing I was up to. The sort of behavior that I haven’t really changed, even now that I’m out of that environnt.

"Yes. I’m grateful soone stepped in. But I have to admit I’m also a little hurt she didn’t co to first. She said it wasn’t anything new."

I could hear the complexity in her voice - a protective older sister mixed with the woman who prided herself on handling things in a professional way. I don’t think she believes she could have handled it as calmly as I did.

> But I also don’t think she understands how angry I was for my sandwich. <

"She probably didn’t want to worry you. Sotis it’s easier to accept help from soone who’s... further outside the situation. Especially when they just rush up and solve the problem without asking permission."

"Well, when you put it that way... maybe."

It was the best ’white lie’ I could co up with. As while she certainly did not want to get her human sister involved in werewolf nonsense, it was more likely that she just had no belief that anyone would - or could - help.

Exhaling through her nose, closing her eyes, and breathing in deep... her deanor as soone ’on the job’ reasserted itself. She led to quickly try on an outfit, complinted the thoughtfulness of the seamless underwear I already had on, and then began to send back.

"I’ll make sure today goes smoothly for you. And not just because you have a little fan in my household."

There was a bit of warmth in her voice that made feel like grinning and pushing her for a laugh. I held out my hand for a shake - and held on firmly as I spoke.

"Thank you. I’m really glad you’re a fan of mine."

"No, I ant-"

"But I wouldn’t call yourself all that little. Though I suppose I haven’t seen *you* stripped to your undergarnts yet."

"Oh, you’re terrible."

With a bit of a snort, she waved her free hand in the air at as I let go. Because it had already been enough ti to do what I needed. Ignoring the actual scan results that said nothing particularly interesting...

| ANNEXATION SUCCESS! |

"I have been told that. But even so, I’ll do my best to make today go smoothly for everyone in the studio."

"Oh it will be a long day ahead, but I think it’s going to be a good one. I’ll send the photographer over to et soon."

Settling back into the makeup chair, I found myself thinking about... connections. How interacting with others in this city had sohow created this network of people who wanted to see succeed.

How more and more, I feel like I’m slipping into wanting the sa. I don’t actually want to take on the role of a leader. Enshed in social training from a young age or not, that doesn’t matter if you can’t muster the will to stand in the spot you need to.

But I do want these people I’m eting, that I’m casually stealing into the Apocalypse System’s pack roster... to be safe. I don’t think it’s either too lofty or too laudable to feel that way.

> I know. That it is probably the point of it being a ’pack’. It’s sothing within the range of a protective capabilities for a ’Chosen’, most likely. It’s not like it is ordering to save everyone in so radius... <

Yet if it was doing just that, I might find it easier. To be compelled toward a great good, instead of settling for the emotionally achievable one. My phone buzzed again and this ti, I didn’t hold back.

K: [Enjoy the work.]

Simple and slightly supportive. No real pressure or expectations. Kyrie Voss may not have wanted to let out of her sight this morning... but now, with just... a kind of recognition that I wasn’t doing any of this because I *had* to?

I stared at the ssage then set the phone aside without responding. So things were easier to work through when I wasn’t trying to figure out what I wanted them to an.

"Alright, ti for the real artistry. If you can, hold still for a while and let know when you need to move before you do. This is where the ’no-makeup makeup’ gets technical."

The man in charge of costics began applying the barely-there base with a damp sponge, working in tiny sections with the deft hand of soone painting a miniature portrait.

"See, caras pick up everything - every bit of shine, every shadow, every tiny variation in skin tone that our eyes would never notice at that distance normally. So even though this will look like you’re wearing nothing..."

"You’re actually wearing invisible amounts of quite a lot."

Eddie added his ’two-cents’ while sectioning out my hair in clips for his treatnt.

"Exactly as he says. Even though you’re going to look completely natural, we’re still going to perfect every milliter. Well, we’ve been perfecting for the past hour."

Devon gestured at the array of products he’d already used. In my world, costics were either used in more obvious displays of wealth and artistry, or you simply went without. This middle ground - an enhancent that tried denying its own existence - felt almost like a magic trick.

> But I also understand what they an about caras. As wonderful as I feel a certain percentage of mine turn out, there are always little *imperfections* in the photos that I could pick at if I let myself. <

While dabbing concealer under my eyes with a brush so small it could paint individual eyelashes, he decided to speak up again.

"I have to say, usually it’s building up, covering, correcting. I’ve done this style before, but never worked with soone where the hardest part was my own restraint."

"What do you an?"

"With you, doll? I keep having to spend more ti looking for the flaw and stop myself from adding more because there’s so little that needs fixing."

"Her hair isn’t much better in that respect. Thick but maintained, not too flat and not too glossy."

It takes everything of to barely twitch my eyebrow at them. I’m supposed to not be moving, right? So why are they complinting so viciously?

"Don’t get wrong - it’s just weird from a worker’s aspect. Like being a chef and getting handed a perfectly prepared al, ready to serve, instead of ingredients."

"I know the feeling. Her skin kind of makes you mad, doesn’t it?"

The familiar voice from behind caused my glance up into the mirror to poke the brush in my cheek. A woman stood just outside our cubicle area, a professional cara held up to her face like she was checking the make-up progress in this lighting.

But around the device, I see silver-streaked and dark hair. When she lowers it to hang on her neck strap, that practiced smile and assessing look... I recognized imdiately from weeks ago.