The Mascara Incident

As requested, here it is. The them you know are . . . well, Hunter's a hundred and seventy something, and Ez is a hundred and forty something, but here they're more like seventy something and forty something (or maybe sixty something and thirty something), so yes. :)
And, to quote Hunter, "For future reference, Ez used to be called Emily, and then she changed her name, and then she changed it again, and sometimes I call her Emily to annoy her."
Just background information.
(Plus, it didn't paste any of the indents in.
DAMN.)

She felt a sparkling sensation suddenly crackle into life in the middle of the room.

“Ez?” Hunter asked.

“Go away,” she told him.

The fizzing energy that hovered in her senses like a bad smell moved towards her, and the weight on the bed sifted as Hunter sat on it. “Look,” he said. “I’m pretty crap at this whole cheering-people-up thing, because usually I’m the one sat there crying.”

“Then say what they say to you,” she told him, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Nobody generally cares enough to say anything,” he shrugged.

Silence.

“You know, Ez,” he began.

“Shut up,” she told him.

“My very best friend died, a few years ago. And it sucked. Really sucked.”

“Tony was slightly more than my best friend,” Ez pointed out, lifting her head up from the pillow slightly so he could hear the edge in her voice.

Hunter raised his voice slightly, ignoring her interruption. “And do you know what sucked the absolute most?” he asked, hatred creeping into his voice, but it wasn’t directed at her. “I was the one who killed him.”

Silence.

Ez lifted her head up over the pillow further, her eyesight a mad blur. “Well, that’s because you’re a screwed up bastard.”

“I know,” Hunter said, his voice strangely calm.

She wiped her eyes and turned around to look at him, and he was sat there staring at his hands. Water was running through the creases in his gloves.

“And it never really goes away,” he said in a low whisper. “And maybe life sucks and it’s unfair, but at least you’re the victim, Ez.”

She fully sat up now. “Don’t you dare make this about you.”

“Well, who is it about?” he asked, his voice an upset too-loud. “You? It’s not about either of us. We’re alive.”

“If you dare start lecturing me -”

“I’m not -”

“Because you’ve never loved anyone, ever, so don’t you even think you know what it’s like -”

“Who says I’ve never loved anyone, ever?” he asked, and he laughed, but it was a broken kind of laugh. “And Ez . . . three things, and you are going to sit there and listen and not interrupt. First thing, it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Second thing, you shouldn’t be sad he’s gone, you should be glad he was here at all. Third thing, he had a happy life whilst it lasted. Fourth thing -”

“You said three things.”

“And you said you wouldn’t interrupt.”

Ez moved to put her head back on her pillow, but it was all wet and had mascara smudges on it. She curled over and buried it in the duvet. “You’re not helping.”

“See, I told you I couldn’t help,” he sighed.

“Yeah, so go away.”

“Ez -”

“I don’t need you, I need waterproof mascara.”

Hunter lifted her head up, ignoring her hand smacking his, and held some under her nose.

Ez sat up again and grabbed it. “Where’d you get that?”

Hunter pointed to his jacket.

She gave him a look. “You have mascara in your jacket?”

“I have a lot of things in my jacket. Plus, you never know when you might need it.”

“Do you happen to have mascara remover in your jacket?”

“I don’t think it works on pillows.”

“What does work on pillows?”

“Vanish?”

“Vanish?”

“Trust pink, forget stains.”

“Thanks.” She put her head back on the duvet.

“I’m not going away,” he told her.

“If you don’t, I will open this mascara and pour it on your head.”

“Well fuck you, I have black hair.”

“Well, I’ll get pink mascara, then.”

“From where?”

“Do you have any?”

“Sure.”

He rummaged in his jacket, pulled some pink mascara out, screwed the bottle open and carefully poured it by her ear.

She jerked upright, knocking the bottle out of his hand, which quickly whizzed and caught it before it could move more than a few centimetres.

“Hey!” Ez protested, giving him a glare that could dent walls.

But Hunter could cut holes in walls with his bare hands.

“You wanted some,” he said innocently.

She snatched it out of his hand, then teleported over and she was behind him, and he reached up and grabbed her wrist, and she was falling on the bed, and he had another full bottle of mascara out, and he burnt the outside and BOOM, mascara explosion.

“Hunter, that’s on my clothes!” she gasped, spitting mascara out of her mouth and standing up.

“Well, that’s in my hair!” he said, giving her a wounded look.

She gave him a teasing grin. “Aw, too bad. Guess you’ll have to dye it pink.”

“Guess you’ll have to dye your clothes black,” he retorted.

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” she pointed out.

Hunter snapped his fingers and his hair was pink.

Ez’s eyes widened and she started laughing.

He teleported behind her, but she was swinging to kick him, so he crackled with electricity and she fell over, unprepared, singed.

Hunter put his hand on her, keeping her under, then his hand whizzed over and began writing on her face whilst his hair shifted back to black. He was cut off near the end and the bones in his wrist cracked, Ez’s hand glowing with energy. He pulled the energy out of her – convert – and his wrist was healed before the pain had really begun.

She sat up and glared at him. “How old are you?”

He laughed, and she whizzed over to a mirror.

Her face read, “HELLO, MY NAME IS EMILY”, with the Y doing a funky swirly thing at the end where his wrist had gone.

She looked at him, grinning. “Oh, DAMN you to hell to be eaten by the crows who bear eternal grudges for being scared.”

“Hey, that’s my phrase!”

“Sit down,” she told him.

He sat down.

“Now, hold still,” she said, opening her brand new waterproof mascara.

“Yeah, that’s likely,” he said, and leapt forward onto her. Her mascara jabbed him in the eye.

“OW!” he yelled, leaping back, and started swearing properly, eyes closed.

He felt Ez move towards him and opened his own mascara, and they engaged in some odd form of sword fight, Hunter being more experienced and Ez being able to see. They did blocks and parries and swirling defence movements and destroyed their mascara wands. Hunter ended up fighting with a new breed of sword that he decided to name the kitana wand, and Ez ended up fighting with a really retarded breed of sword that was more like a right-angled wand, and then she realised she could just reach her arm out and move it round away from the battle, so she did that, and jabbed Hunter in the chest.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he yelled, falling back and wrapping his arm around himself. “HELP ME! I’M DYING! I’M MORTALLY WOUNDED! I AM SEEING MY LIFE FLASH BEFORE MY EYES! OH, HOW I REGRET NOT SPENDING MY LIFE DOING MORE WORTHWHILE THINGS! I SHOULD HAVE EATEN FAR MORE TOAST! MY TOASTER MUST FEEL WASTED! OH, HOW I SHALL MISS YOU IN THE AFTERLIFE, OH MACHINE THAT CONCOCTS TOAST! HOW I WISHED I HAD BURNT THEE TO DEATH SO THAT THOU MIGHT JOIN ME! OH, THE PAIN! IT’S UNBEARABLE! HOW DARE I BE DYING IN A ROOM WITHOUT ANY BEARS IN IT? BEARS SHOULD BE COMPULSORY! I SHOULD GET A REFUND! EZ, RING HADES FOR ME AND TELL HIM THAT I’M NOT DYING UNTIL HE DOES WHAT IT SAYS ON THE DAMN INSTRUCTION MANUEL AND GETS ME SOME BEARS!”

He sat up. “Dial 23534 357454. Come on, come on! I’m not getting older here!”

She raised her eyebrows and dialled the number.

“Hello?” asked the man on the other end.

“Hunter’s not dying until you get him some bears,” she told him.

“What?” he asked. “Who is this?”

“An unbearable soul,” Ez told him seriously.

His voice hardened. “Is this a prank call?”

“Are you a prank call?”

“Of course I’m not a prank call -”

Hunter snatched the phone off her. “Are you Hades, Lord of the Underworld?”

“Of course not -”

“THEN IT IS A PRANK CALL!” he bellowed. “HOW DARE YOU TRICK ME LIKE THIS? WHY HAST THOU FORSAKEN ME?”

The man hung up.

There was a knock at the door.

Hunter and Ez looked at each other.

“I have mascara on my face,” she said.

“I’m dying,” he said.

She got up and opened the door. “Yes?”

There was a woman standing outside looking not very amused. “Could you possibly keep the noise down? My daughter is trying to get to sleep.”

“WELL, I’M TRYING TO ETERNALLY SLEEP AND THERE AREN’T ANY BEARS!” Hunter pointed out, teleporting in front of Ez. “Then again, I’m sure I can die quietly. Hi. What’s your opinion on erasers?”

Ez poked her head out from behind him. “Sorry, he has mental issues. Like, literal ones. He’s schizophrenic. I have told him he might be better off getting a room in a mental institution, but -”

“Are there bears there?” he asked her.

She shrugged. “Possibly.”

“Ooh,” he said, brightening.

“So, will you be quiet?” asked the woman.

“Unbearably so,” Hunter told her, turning around to walk back into the room, and getting a bottle of mascara exploded in his face.

I’ll fucking murder you, Ez.

He tackled her and she fell over, and he smashed his head into her chin, covering her with mascara and causing them to both sit up rubbing their faces and getting black all over their hands. Which was okay for Hunter, because hey, black gloves.

“Not smart,” she told him.

“You’re ruining my last moments alive,” he moaned.

She slapped him in the face with her black hand in answer, and ending up with it blacker.

“You know, I’m really glad I wear all black,” he smiled.

Ez whizzed away slightly and held up a bottle of blue, a bottle of red and a bottle of purple.

He looked at them.

“Why would you even have that mascara?”

“Why would you even have pink mascara?”

“Oh, for emergencies, you know.”

They stood up.

They looked at each other.

Hunter produced a water gun and poured mascara in it.

Ez didn’t have a water gun, so she was just kind of stood there.

Hunter tossed her a water gun.

She filled it.

They pretended to take the safety catches off and stood there with the guns held to their shoulders like rifles.

“May the best man win,” announced Hunter.

“I’m a woman,” Ez pointed out.

“Exactly, so I’m the best man,” he grinned, and then dropped to the ground as Ez began firing. Once he had dropped to the ground, she merely stood over him and kept firing, so he made a run from the sofa, leapt over it, knocked it over, sat behind it and began firing from behind the cover. Ez ran for the bed and they fired.

“It’s kind of boring without sound,” she noted.

Hunter chucked her an earpiece.

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG  BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG –

Ez made a motion like she was turning down the volume on the radio and it quietened, and they fired, Hunter occasionally chucking mascara at Ez for her to reload.

Ez wrote “Ez” on the back of the sofa in mascara.

Hunter wrote “Emily” on the floor in mascara.

Ez teleported over there and began hitting him with her mascara gun.

“Okay, okay, timeout!” he grinned.

She whacked him one last time, then handed the gun to him. “You better have a lot of Vanish in that jacket of yours,” she told him.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” he mentioned casually. “Most of the mascara’s permanent.”

The world seemed to freeze for a moment, probably because Ez’s eyes were too busy widening in horror to process any new information.

 

There was mascara all over the floor and the furniture and the walls and the ceiling.

“Fuck,” Ez whispered, looking around, taking it all in.

“It’s okay,” Hunter said cheerily. “Unlike Hades, I deal in refunds.”

“Please say you have some form of remover for this,” she whispered.

He hesitated. “Er . . .”

She moaned.

Hunter sighed and produced mops, scrubbing things, buckets of water, and Vanish. He pulled off his jacket before rolled up his sleeves, showing a mass of scars twisting around his arms, and got scrubbing.

Ez looked at the floor.

“That’s not coming off.”

He tried pouring makeup remover onto the carpet and rubbing that in as well.

“IT’S NOT COMING OFF!” Ez whispered madly.

“WE’LL SAY WE REDECORATED,” Hunter whispered back.

“I DON’T THINK I’M ALLOWED TO DO THAT!!!” Ez whisper-screamed.

Hunter shrugged, scrubbing.

Ez picked up the bucket of water, dropped it on his head, and reached inside his jacket, pulling out a fireman’s hose.

“Good idea,” said Hunter, pulling the bucket off his head, going to the water supply and filling the hose with Vanish and makeup remover. Then he switched it on.

It jerked right out of Ez’s hands, the water zooming through it, making an audacious bid for freedom.

“YOU CALL THAT HOLDING A HOSE?” he yelled.

They picked it up together and sprayed it everywhere.

Then they switched it off.

And the room looked the same, except very wet.

They looked at each other and said “Oh,” in unison.

“I think someone downstairs might be getting a nice shower around about now,” Hunter grinned.

Ez sighed.

Hunter produced a hairdryer.

“We might need a bit more than that,” she pointed out.

“You dare to insult my hairdryer?” he asked, blasting it in her face. “But you’re correct.”

He paused. “Although, I don’t really have anything bigger.”

“Hairdryers are fine,” she said.

He pulled one out for her, both of them battery-powered, and they walked around blowing the room and having no effect whatsoever.

“Sorry,” Hunter said.

She laughed. “It’s fine. It’s been fun.”

“I’ll speak to your hotel manager for you.”

“God, you’ll just make him mad. I’ll do it.”

“I destroy everything, don’t I?”

“Including bad moods. It’s cool.”

A pause, in which hairdryers could be heard.

“Ez?”

“Hunter?”

“Thanks.”

“For?”

“Putting up with me.”

“That’s fine,” she said, turning around so he could see her smiling at him.

He looked at her, and his eyes darkened.

She frowned. “What?”

“You have permanent writing on your face.”

“Oh, fuck!”

 

When Ez opened her eyes and looked into the mirror in the ensuite, her face was rubbed red and still had letters marching across it, edged by enthusiastic splashes.

“Hunter?”

He was standing there, his eyes somewhat darker than his pretty rainbow-coloured face. “Yes?”

“I am going to fucking murder you.”

He passed her another brand of makeup remover. “Try this.”

She took it. “Remind me to never, ever let you near mascara again.”

She applied it to her face, and the black stains still remained. “Hunter, this isn’t working.”

He tilted his head thoughtfully, and his eyes went blue. “Maybe, if we took your skin off . . .”

“No.”

“Do you think if I burnt it with a blowtorch?”

She slapped him in the face. “No.”

“If I scraped it off with a scalpel?”

“Hunter, I like my skin.”

“Aww. What’s the ship name for that?”

“If I were in love with my skin, wouldn’t I technically be in love with myself?”

“Possibly so. If you’re correct, can the ship name be Ezmeraldez?”

She laughed and shook her head.

“Ez.”

“Hunter?”

“I think you just might have to go around with those words on your face.”

“Oh, fuck it!”

“Sorry.”

“Well, damn you!”

“I have to go around with a rainbow on my face!”

“Well, you’re male!”

“Sexist.”

“And you wear a helmet half the time!”

“True.”

“Hunter?”

“What?”

“I swear, I’ll blowtorch your face if you don’t get me some permanent mascara, come here, and sit still.”

A blur, and Hunter was there.

She leant over him, mascara wand in hand.

“Ez?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t write anything too outrageous.”

“Should have thought of that before, shouldn’t you?” she asked with a scary grin.

He held still and felt the cool mascara drifting across his face, felt Ez, leaning her hand on his shoulder as she drew, eyes looking straight at his forehead, tingle like she was radioactive.

“Is it hard drawing on me with the tingling?” he asked, curious.

She shrugged. “You get used to it. I mean, I barely notice myself tingling. Do you?”

“We don’t really tingle, we just kind of feel like we do,” he said. “Although we do sort of tingle.”

“Very specific, that.”

She finished and sat up, grinning at him.

Hunter leant over and looked in the mirror. His face said, “I AM REALLY HOT AND I WANT TO FUCK YOU ALL YEAH.”

He laughed, eyes a playful green. “Could you not have just written ‘I am an idiot’?”

She grinned at her handiwork. “Not as mortifying.”

“At least yours is hard to read now!!”

“At least you knew what you were getting into!! Plus, you wear a helmet! I have to go about like this at work!”

“Well -” Not able to think of any more arguments, he made a frustrated noise. “Hades, with or without bears, you can kill me now!”

She laughed, and he smiled. Apparently, he could cheer people up.

“Maybe we should leave now, before trouble catches us,” he says.

“Guessing you’re not going to notify the hotel manager?”

He shrugged. “With this face? I’ll leave a pile of money in the middle of the floor.”

“It’ll get wet there.”

“I’ll hang it from the ceiling, then.”

Hunter disappeared, and Ez walked back into the sopping wet hotel room to see him stretching onto the tips of his toes, the toes encased in boots that imitated a kaleidoscope, sellotaping some string to the ceiling.

“Tall people should be banned,” she told him.

He dropped his feet back onto the floor with a sodden squelching noise and sellotaped –

Ez put her hand over his, stopping him. “You’ll wreck the money,” she pointed out.

“Oh.”

He looked around the room aimlessly.

She reached inside his jacket and pulled an empty wallet out of one of the main portals.

He nodded, checking that it was empty, and stuffed some notes inside it. “Thanks.”

“I think they might need more money than that.”

He glared and pulled more notes out.

“Do I want to know where this money’s coming from?” she asked.

“Probably not,” he admitted. He sellotaped the wallet, then took her hand and started skipping.

Her arm jerked forward and she almost fell over. Seeing she wasn’t moving, Hunter stopped, glaring at her.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.

He looked at her like she was mad. “Skipping off into the sunset!”

“Sunset? That’s a wall!”

He looked at it. “It’s a rainbow wall. It’ll do.”

He skipped into it and banged his face. “Ow.”

He turned around, and saw out of the window.

“Ooh, look, an actual sunset.”

He skipped over to the window, paused to open it, jumped out – slowly his fall by levitating – and carried on skipping.

Ez jumped out after him. “You are not skipping like a lunatic down the street with your face like that.”

He smiled. “YOLO.”

“You did not just say that.”

He took her hand again and she started skipping with him.

“And this, Ez, is how radioactive milkshakes are invented,” he told her, his voice jerking with the skipping.

He was absolutely mad.

But that was probably why she liked him.

It was strangely liberating.

Passers-by stared at the them, actually stopped what they were doing and turned around and stared, and they stuck their tongues out at them and waved with their free hands.

“Where are we skipping to?” Ez asked.

“It’s not about getting there,” replied Hunter. “It’s about the journey.”

“But, you know, skipping is kind of exhausting.”

“Good point,” he decided. “We shall go and get milkshakes.”

“And one day, we shall get radioactive ones,” she told him.

He smiled. “One day.”