Layla's fingertips continued along Zoey's jawline, smoothing the last traces of gel into an even layer. What had been a collection of glossy patches only minutes earlier now caught the streaming lights in a thin sheen across her skin.
"You really have good skin... but it needs more hydration."
Her fingers slowed beneath Zoey's jaw and stopped there. The contact lasted another second before Layla lifted her hand away, the movement as clean and precise as the application itself.
Zoey remained still.
The warmth of Layla's fingertips lingered faintly where they'd been, even after the hand itself was gone. Zoey's lips parted as though a response had already made it halfway to the surface, but nothing came out. She closed them again.
Her gaze remained somewhere beyond the monitor.
The compliment had reached her. Finding an appropriate response seemed to be taking considerably longer.
Her chat had no such difficulty.
CHAT:
SKINCARE ROASTED WITH LOVE
she complimented and diagnosed her in one breath
LAYLA SAID 'GOOD JOB, NOW FIX IT'
zoey is now evaporating from the eyes
Zoey's eyes moved across the messages without quite settling on any of them. The red across her cheeks was still visible beneath the fresh sheen of gel, and her mouth opened once more before closing again.
Eventually, she managed a slow nod.
"...thank you?"
The answer came barely above a whisper, uncertain enough to sound almost like a question.
Beside her, Layla reached for the folded cloth on the table. She wiped the remaining gel from her fingertips, passing the fabric carefully over each one before folding the used section inward. When she set the cloth back down, her hands were clean again.
She straightened beside Zoey, her posture returning naturally to the same controlled stillness she'd held before the application.
Zoey was still staring somewhere ahead of herself.
Layla tilted her head toward her.
"You went really silent. Are you still alright? Are you thirsty?"
There was no teasing in her expression. Her voice carried the same soft, composed rhythm as before, the question offered with nothing more visible behind it than practical concern.
A new message appeared almost immediately.
[VIP] hannaH: OH SHE IS REALLYYY THIRSTY
The rest of Zoey's chat followed Hannah straight into the opening.
CHAT:
HANNAH NOOO 💀💀💀
EXPOSED BY THE VIP
MODS CAN WE GET A FIRE EXTINGUISHER
Zoey's shoulders shot upward.
Her eyes locked onto Hannah's message before darting toward Layla. Layla was still looking at her, waiting for an answer with the same neutral attention as before.
The heat already sitting beneath the gel on Zoey's cheeks deepened.
"yes ?...I-I meant physically! I mean yes, I'm...I'm good! Just...thinking about hydration! Internally! In... all forms!"
The words tangled more with every attempt to straighten them out. By the end of the sentence, Zoey's hand was already moving toward the water bottle on the table.
Her fingers missed it completely.
She looked down at the empty space beneath her hand, then reached again. This time she caught the bottle firmly around the middle and pulled it toward herself with both hands, gripping it as though losing it again wasn't an option.
She raised it to her mouth and took a long sip without blinking.
The cool water gave her something else to do, and Zoey committed to it completely. On this exact moment everything was better than to address the turmoil in her head. Both hands remained wrapped around the bottle while she stared ahead at the monitor, fingers trembling faintly against the plastic.
Layla didn't move.
She didn't smile at Zoey's answer or react to the eruption on the monitor. She simply waited beside her, watching with the same unreadable expression she'd worn before.
CHAT:
that sip had trauma
she drank like her life depended on it
LAYLA SAID ONE SENTENCE AND ZOEY ASCENDED
someone check if zoey's pulse is still local
Zoey continued drinking.
Her shoulders gradually lowered from where they'd risen, although the red across her face showed no similar interest in disappearing.
When the bottle finally began to move away from her mouth, Layla spoke again.
"We need to wait 20 minutes now..."
Zoey stopped with the bottle still close to her lips.
Layla delivered the information with the same calm practicality she'd used throughout the routine, as though twenty minutes were simply another measurement on the sponsor's instructions.
Then she remained exactly where she was.
Her hands rested quietly at her sides. The dark fabric of her dress had settled around her legs, no longer shifting now that she wasn't moving between the table and Zoey's chair. She didn't reach for another product. She didn't move toward a seat or occupy herself with anything else.
With the application finished, Layla simply stood beside Zoey.
The streaming lights washed across the pale side of her face and caught along the white strands of her hair. Against the black of her dress, the contrast made her stillness even more noticeable.
CHAT:
20 MINUTES OF TENSION 😭
she's not moving HELP
zoey is gonna pop a blood vessel before minute 3
this is the most intimidating waiting period of my life
Zoey stiffened halfway through another sip.
She swallowed and slowly lowered the bottle.
Her gaze remained forward at first. Only after another second did it begin moving sideways, until Layla entered the edge of her vision again.
Perfectly framed in profile beside Zoey's chair, posture straight, hands quiet, expression unchanged.
Zoey looked back toward the monitor.
Then sideways again.
The twenty-minute wait had barely started, and the absence of anything for either of them to do made every detail around her more noticeable. The low hum of the lights. The warmth still lingering beneath the gel. The bottle held between her hands. Layla's silent presence close beside her chair.
Zoey's fingers shifted around the bottle.
"...are you just... standing?"
Her voice came out barely loud enough to carry beyond the desk.
CHAT:
YES.
NO ESCAPE.
YOU WILL MARINATE TOGETHER.
Zoey tried to chuckle.
What escaped was closer to a squeak. Somewhere in her chat, one of her regular viewers was probably keeping a running count of how many she'd produced tonight.
Zoey pressed her lips together and wrapped both hands around the water bottle again. Layla remained upright beside her chair, apparently in no hurry to rescue her from the silence, while messages continued climbing across the monitor.
Twenty minutes.
Normally, Zoey could fill twenty minutes without even trying. Give her a camera, a moving chat and the smallest thread of an idea, and she could talk until someone reminded her what she'd originally been talking about. Tonight, however, the part of her brain responsible for any of that had apparently decided she'd caused enough problems for it already.
Zoey stared at the monitor, searching through the passing messages for something, anything, that might keep the stream moving.
She was going to have to come up with something.