“What do you think of this?” Newt comes out and gives a twirl.
“…why are you wearing a dress?” Chuck stares.
“Seriously?” Newt looks at him and rolls his eyes. “Dude, we’re halfway through the 2020s. Guys wear dresses, deal with it.”
“Yeah, if you’re in a drag show. And that dress looks like a hundred years old.”
“Fuck you, the 50s are always in fashion.” Newt smooths down the sides of his poofy, red spotted dress. He looks under his desk for his heels.
“Okay, no way you didn’t get those from a drag show-”
“Dude, shut up. And I have like, size 6 feet.”
“Are you going to wear make up-”
“Fuck it, get out, asshole.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Hermann closes his eyes as Mako helps him put on the mascara. “I always end up stabbing myself in the eye with that thing.”
“Everyone does,” Mako agrees. “You will help me with it next time, yes?”
“Of course.” Hermann opens his eyes, looks at himself in the mirror. The mascara lengthens his lashes, dabs faint lines over his eyeshadow. “Do you think the dress might be- too much?”
“I like it.” Mako nods, “I like blue.”
Hermann smiles. Mako touches his hair. “Maybe you could dye it too-”
“Not a chance.” Hermann gets up. “I’m sorry, it looks wonderful on you but I doubt it would suit me, besides, Newt would never let me forget it.” he finishes under his breath.
He takes a breath, and steps into his dress, it slips up his body and hugs him silkily. He turns around and Mako helps do up his dress. “Thank you.”
“I like your shoes, did you get them in Hong Kong?”
“I’m afraid not,” Hermann sighs. “I have a hard enough time getting men’s shoes. I had to buy these off an Australian site that sells to drag singers.”
“Send me the address.” Mako shrugs.