special_rabbit | The Apartment above 'Dite's; Thursday [04/06].

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The Apartment above 'Dite's; Thursday [04/06].

At this point, Amaya had been a rabbit for so long that there weren't many nooks and crannies and little hidden spots that she hadn't sussed out around Irene's apartment, or, at the very least, she'd gotten into enough cabinets and drawers and little tricky hidden spots to have developed favorites and one of those favorites, at the moment, seemed to be all the drawers in Irene's vanity.

How did Amaya actually get in the drawers of the vanity? How did Amaya manage to squeeze herself into half of the places Irene had been likely to find her throughout the week? Who knew. Rabbit magic, perhaps. But these drawers had plenty of little interesting containers and compacts with interesting smells. And while rabbit Amaya still had enough sense to know that those powders and liquid were not for eating, that didn't seem to prevent her from managing to get herself plenty dusted and smeared with various things while she was in there. And now that she was done thoroughly exploring everything in that drawer, she nudged it open a little and started to poke her little rabbit nose out of the crack she'd created to start wriggling her way up to the top of the vanity to see what other interesting things to get into and/or knock over (not intentionally, mind you! She was a rabbit, not a cat!) up there...

An exploration that would, definitely, involve somehow managing to get a powder compact open and adorably rabbit sneezing into it, which only made the ensuing dust cloud of makeup more impressive!

[[ for she of the ransacked makeup collection, natch! ]]

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It was only because she needed sustenance that Irene had abandoned Amaya -- foolishly -- to her own rabbitty devices. Idiot that she was, Irene had figured that she had, actually, somehow rabbit-proofed the place enough by now, or that Amaya had (Irene, you're dumb) explored everything she was going to!

At least, she'd figured she had long enough to brew a cup of tea for herself before dealing with another day with her favorite person -- shhhhhhh -- stuck as a goddamned lagomorph.

But, again -- Irene was a bit of an idiot, here.

"Oh, damn it -- get out of there," she scolded, returning to the bedroom just in time to catch that sneeze and set down her teacup with nary a sip taken from it so she could deal with the fresh new hell of a rabbit in her vanity.

Oh, no! She'd been caught red-pawed! Quite literally, because there were definitely smudges of either lipstick or some kind of luxe blush all over those little rabbit feet of hers.

But Amaya had been a rabbit long enough to know how this was likely to play out, now that she'd been spotted, and so she made a mad hop back to the drawer she'd come from in an attempt to slip back in before Irene could snatch her up.

"Amaya!" Like that was going to help, Irene. Like yelling the rabbit's name at her was going to suddenly, a week and change in, make her go, 'Oh, right, I'm not really a rabbit -- I'm a brilliant woman who normally has so many better things to do than rummage about making nests in your cosmetics! My bad!'

Couldn't blame a girl for trying, at least.

Irene could at least pull that drawer out to try to retrieve Amaya -- which, naturally, opened up the empty space where the drawer had been for further retreat, because Irene's foresight had taken a holiday.

And, sure enough, Amaya was going to rabbit-wiggle her way deeper into the vanity now that that unlikely path had opened up, squeezing in almost impossible ways into that open space and down into the drawer below it, immediately sniffing around to see what awaited her down there. Where she surely had escaped for good.

Except for how one of Irene's hands was thrusting in there, blindly pawing around for Amaya.

"Damn it!"

And breaking a nail in the process, too. Irene was having a whole little day here and she hadn't even had her tea yet. But at least she figured out fairly quickly that Amaya had ended up one drawer down, and thus as soon as her hand was removed, Irene was doing her best to yank open that lower drawer before Amaya could go tunnelling deeper still into the recesses of forgotten cotton pads and triangular sponges.

Those cotton balls and triangular sponges were already being marked for excellent fodder for bedding, but it seemed her new plot for comfort and privacy was foiled once again! Clearly, Irene was not to be deterred, so the vanity felt no longer safe and viable. She wasn't about to leave entirely empty-pawed, though. Or, well, empty-mouthed, as she carefully took a few sponges between her teeth before steeling herself for her next dramatic escape...

...by racing past Irene's hand to leap as soon as possible out of the opened drawer, planning to rush off toward the door as soon as she hit the floor.

But when she did hit the floor, it was with far more weight and, quite frankly, humanness than expected, which was enough of a shock that the bolting was postpone in favor of freeing her foot from a drawer that was definitely quite broken off from the rest of the vanity and spitting a couple of sponges out of her mouth.

"Ahhh, zards."

Well. At least she managed to get (mostly) out of the drawer this time!

She could probably have done without the whole 'covered in a mess of makeup' if it all, though.

So, on the one hand -- it was probably a good thing Irene had already done her face earlier, because...RIP, makeup collection. Goodbye, many tiny broken bottles and capsules bearing equal measures of English and French and Korean. Farewell, vanity drawer, you served us all well.

On the other, she didn't bother at all to hide her sheer relief at seeing Amaya in all her wonderfully naked, sponge-spitting glory.

"Welcome back," she offered with a sigh and smile that was as fond as it was exasperated, and she leaned down to offer Amaya a hand up. Maybe she'd grab that infamous dressing gown from a few weeks back in a moment -- but ushering Amaya right into a shower to rid herself of lipstick and rouge and spilled perfume might be a preferred plan, actually.

"I have really got to learn to avoid furniture when I get turned into a rabbit," Amaya muttered, mostly to herself as she gave a rueful look at the damage she'd done there, minimal as it was compared to other de-rabbitification incidents, as well as compared to the contents of that furniture.

And then that rueful gaze shifted to the hand being offered, and, with a resigned sigh, Amaya reached out to take it.

Then stopped halfway there when she saw all the lipstick still somehow smeared against her hand, and, with a small, offended sound, turned it over to see that there was similar (even more, actually) damage on the other side. And then a look at herself as a whole, which definitely continued the same story. Experimentally, she rolled her eyes up and blew that way, to inspire a slight cloud of powder foundation to escape her bangs.

"Well, I made a fine mess of things here, didn't I?"

But she did, ultimately, take that hand.

"I'm not sure how much you were you," Irene offered, both mindful and unfazed by the lipstick and powder cloud as she gave a little pull to help Amaya to her feet. If anything, she was actually sort of pained, because that was from last fall's MAC line, Amaya, and she'd never see that exact color again. Never mind that she had about 200 different shades of red lippie -- that one was gone forever. "You're usually a bit more -- compliant?"

That wasn't really the right word (outside of, ahem, perhaps some very specific circumstances), but really, Irene did not usually have to try to keep track of Amaya.

"Less destructive, at least."

Amaya's face, which was sporting an interesting palette of blue and green smudges presumably from some form of eyeshadow,made exactly the sort of face anyone who knew her might have expected at the idea of the word compliant being applied to her.

(Well, outside of, indeed, some very specific circumstances. ....like business).

Less destructive was only slightly better, but it appeared as though she'd be more willing to allow it, as she, without even realizing it, impulsively went to wipe her soiled hands on her skirts, only then to be reminded that she wasn't wearing them.

"Right, then," she said, rubbing at some sort of black mark (eyeliner? Mascara? Amaya didn't know what any of this was, honestly) with her thumb and only making it worse, before looking back to Irene with a sigh. "Shower?"

"Shower," Irene agreed, moving to snag that aforementioned dressing gown for her to hang up in the bathroom for after. "You know what, I'll get the micellar water out for you, too. Some of that won't come off without a little bit of doing."

And while Irene would normally need to actually be physically restrained -- a-hem -- from attempting to join Amaya in the shower, she actually knew from experience that after a week as a small creature, a bit of space to return to oneself was precious.

But, that being said -- "Pretty shade on you, though," she added, reaching a hand out to very gently trace a smudge along Amaya's shoulder in the briefest touch on her way to start the shower for her, unwilling (or unable, outright) to resist a bit of teasing.

The fur had been nice and cozy and warm, and all, but it didn't quite have the ability to just let even the briefest touch linger quite the same way as skin, did it? Or maybe it was just being in her own again made it feel all the more...responsive.

"Rabbit me apparently thought so, too," Amaya noted wryly, as she followed after Irene. "Micellar water, though? Sounds a bit complicated."

As if she had no experience in cleaning off difficult,stubborn smudges, really...

"It's the only way that eyeliner's going to leave your gorgeous skin, darling. Rabbit you had some good taste," Irene assured her with a none-too-shy glance raked over Amaya's body. She ducked into the bathroom and threw on the shower nearly as hot as it would go to build up some nice steam, and hung up that dressing gown invitingly in one fluid motion. A moment's rummage through a cupboard later, and several different makeup removing variations were deposited on the countertop -- micellar water included.

"And I'll go put the coffee on, how's that?"

It was also possible that Irene's experience exiting her fancy weasel form -- and what she thought some of her missteps there might have been, as well as the human comforts she, personally, had missed at that time -- were informing her movements just now, too.

Amaya may have been back to being a more advanced creature than a mere rabbit, but that sound that wedged out of her at the mention of coffee came from somewhere undeniably primal. And put her in a little bit of a...conundrum, really, because it would seem that maybe, for her, that post-transformation bit of space wasn't...quite so precious, at all, actually.

So that groan was followed by a moment of decision, and the ultimate prevailing factor of hating to throw away a good line.

"What?" she asked. "You mean you're not gonna help me out?"

That sound was enough to tell Irene that the space she was so willingly offering wasn't actually wanted, just now, even before Amaya spoke -- and, more importantly, it sent a tingle from the back of her neck all the way down to her toes.

"Well," Irene replied, biting her lower lip against a smile and taking a step into Amaya's space a bit. "You really are quite a mess, aren't you?"

Another too-light, knowing stroke of her fingertips against a smudge, this time along Amaya's neck, as Irene made a little show of tutting over it.

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The Apartment above 'Dite's; Thursday [04/06].

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