(2530-02-10) Makoto and Finn - Makeover
Summary: Finn is disheartened, so Makoto tries to convince her she'd be happier if she felt better about her appearance. There's peach brandy involved.
RL Date: 11 Feb 2020
Related: None
finnegan makoto 

<Finn and Makoto's Apartment>

<The apartment is a tiny pit of an apartment, but it's kept spotless by Makoto, nonetheless. It's a narrow room, just big enough for fold-down bunk beds, a few cabinets, a fold out table and a kitchenette. There's a tiny cubicle of a bathroom, so small it has no sink and you could probably shower while completing your morning business, if you really wanted to.>


The lights outside twinkle on the dusky winter evening. Music can be heard from somewhere else in the building, a dull thump of bass that drowns out all words and meaning. The door lock beeps as the correct code is entered into it. It's Finnegan, home from work. She lets the door click closed behind her and moves immediate to hang her messenger bag and black coat on a peg protruding from the wall. She tips forward to rest her forehead against the damp wood of her coat, the snowflakes that had lit upon it melting as the warmer air of the apartment touches them.

Inside the tiny living space, Makoto glances up from the wok she's working with on the stove. The mixture of sliced brown protein, green onions, ginger, pepper, and a few carrots she'd found in the market gives off a surprisingly savory smell as she stirs it. "Doctor Finn! Are home!" she exclaims, as if that's not perfectly obvious. She hastily turns off the heat and sets the wok to the side, moving to help the weary brunette.

Finnegan forces herself to stand upright again and offers Makoto a half-hearted smile - the one she normally uses in place what other people would consider a full smile. "Hi Makoto." Something is off with the look of her. She expends a lot of energy trying to look detached at all times, but in this moment, she's failing. A glassiness to her eyes and the upward wrinkle of her brow denote sadness, like she's trying to hold back a flood of tears. "Good day?" Just because it's there, doesn't mean she wants to admit it's there.

"Have been cleaning, cooking. Too cold to job-hunt," she replies, moving to give the doctor a hug. "Is good day to stay inside, so good day for Makoto."
She looks up at her friend's face, trying to catch her eyes. "Something not right for Doctor Finn. Look very sad, and try not to," she says, picking up on the distressed vibes. And they've got to be pretty strong for the sheltered girl to be clued in.

Finnegan shakes her head just a tad, "Nah. It's ok. Don't worry Makoto. I'll be fine." And for the distraction, "That smells really good. What is it? I haven't eaten all day."

"Is stir-fry. Need to add noodles," Makoto replies, glancing at the wok. "Will be ready soon." Which, as Finnegan might have realized by now, can mean anything from one to forty minutes with Makoto; for a musician, she has a poor sense of time. But her sense of being deceived is fine. "Doctor Finn worried about something. Could help…" she offers, stepping back from the hug but staying close by.

"It's ok," Finnegan assures Makoto. "I just, it's. Just an argument with the boss. It'll pass. These things pass." She rubs a hand across her eyes to keep from seeing her own emotion, then goes to slump into one of the mismatched chairs at the pull-out table. She half laughs, "I could totally use a drink."

"About patient?" Makoto asks, glancing about, then opening one of the cabinets under the little counter. "Is some plum wine, some peach brandy," she observes, peering inside. "Can pour for Doctor Finn?"

Finnegan seriously considers that, as both of those sound like they could make a person seriously sick, seriously fast. In the end, "Why not? Let's.. peach brandy. Why not? What's the worst that could happen?"

Makoto finds two glasses, both a far cry from brandy snifters, and pours two glasses. Hers is more of a half-glass, while Finnegan gets a full measure and a touch more. "Sip slowly," she advises as she passes over Finn's glass. "Smell very strong."
Her own glass goes with her, back to the stove to continue cooking. She locates the noodles she'd prepared earlier and adds them to the wok, then turns on the heat again and begins stirring the lot together. "Can listen, cook at same time," she promises.

For a second, curiosity out-weighs sadness on Finnegan's face. She brings the glass to her nose and sniffs, then laughs. "Ok. Well, here goes." She takes a careful, slow sip to see if it rots her esophagus.

Makoto keeps stirring, watching the noodles and the rest of the dish get intertwined. The savory smell is reborn, wafting throughout the apartment. "Is good?" she asks, not having touched her glass yet.

"It's terrible," Finnegan laughs, but sips it again. "Uh. Sweet." She spins the drink around in the glass, watching it eddy. "I don't know. Second sip is only half as awful."

"Did smell strong," Makoto replies, giggling softly. "But not sure work /that/ fast!" She takes a tentative sip of her own glass, managing not to cough. It's /very/ strong. "Should finish cooking first," she says, setting the glass down and picking up the long-handled ladle she's been using with the wok.

Finnegan slumps down in her chair and leans her head back against the back of it, letting the glass rest on her stomach. "Tell me a story with a happy ending?" she asks, wistfully.

Makoto has to give that some thought. "Story with happy ending…" she murmurs, continuing to stir.

"Yeah. There has to be at least ONE. And a really happy ending. Not like, 'She marries the prince', because, come on, that's not an ending. That's just the beginning of all her troubles. AND, why didn't she stand up to her rotten step family on her own, rising above the lot THEY cast for her to take on the nobility to which she was actually born. Assuming, that is, that being of noble blood actually MEANS something and isn't just another way of degrading others," Finnegan never bothers to open her now-closed eyes as she rants this.

"Am not sure what noble blood means," Makoto admits. "Have heard many princess stories, end with marriage. But marriage just beginning of new story."
She gives Finnegan a puzzled look. "Is something to do with why Doctor Finn upset?" she has to ask at last.

Finnegan lifts her head and looks at Makoto, then laughs for real. No derision in this one, just amusement. "Um. No. I'm not married. I have no marriage prospects, and that doesn't really bother me. I have enough to occupy my time without someone being overly concerned with how I wear my hair or when I'm going to give them tiny Finnegans."

Makoto blushes a little. "Still not know why Doctor Finn so upset," she confesses. "No way to help if not know what to help with. Good meal always make Makoto feel better… hope is also true of Doctor Finn."
She gives the dish one last stir, then sets the wok aside and turns off the heat. Finding a plate, she ladles out a generous portion and offers it to her roomie. "Need little time to cool, but cool faster on plate than in chukanabe. And Makoto worry about how Doctor Finn wear hair, but only in morning." She's learned what clinic work does to one's hair before long.

Finnegan thunks the glass down on the table and looks quizzically at Makoto, "You worry about how I wear my hair? Really? Like, you think I need to actually do something with it, or something?" A pause before she asks, "Why?"

Makoto blushes a little. "Would look more nice," she says after a moment. "Is not bad thing to look nice. Makoto not know how to dress normal, but if look pretty, feel better," she explains. "Make many things more easy."

"Really?" Finnegan asks, squinting at Makoto. She rises, stretches, and moves toward the counter to take up a couple of pairs of chop sticks, which she brings back and sets on the table. "You think that how you style your hair has a direct effect on how difficult the world is to navigate? Like if I put in a hair clip or fixed myself an updo, I wouldn't screw up everything I touch?"

Makoto blushes, but she doesn't back down. "Think make difference in how see the world," she replies. "Look better, feel better, is easier to deal with many things. Would not really make something more easy, but would make Doctor Finn feel better about facing same something."

Finnegan stares incredulously at Makoto, reaches a hand up and pulls her ponytail holder out. Shaking out her brown hair, which Makoto has probably only seen down for brief periods after a shower or when Finnegan is sleeping, she issues the challenge, "Ok. Show me." She's not defiant, but takes on more a tone of an amused skeptic.

Makoto, hearing that skeptical note in Finnegan's voice, takes a deep breath, bowing her head. When she lifts her gaze again, her eyes are hard, determined black pearls. One can almost hear the plonky notes of a dramatic shamisen chord as she reaches through the open bathroom door, retrieves her hairbrush, and steps behind Finnegan…
And it begins! Her hands are gentle, but swift as she combs out the doctor's hair, stroke after stroke, until it bears a certain gloss. Then she begins to braid it, forming a long plait down the center of Finnegan's back.
Even that doesn't end it. She draws the plait up, wrapping it into a braided bun, and then ties it together at the back of Finnegan's head. It's now out of the way, but still displays a certain elegance, accentuating the graceful curve of the doctor's neck and the porcelain tone of her skin.
Makoto steps calmly from behind Finnegan and holds up a mirror, so she can see the results.

Food growing cold on the table, Finnegan allows Makoto to 'style' her. She doesn't want to appreciate the feel of someone's hands in her hair, of the brush, but her shoulders begin to relax as Makoto makes stroke after stroke. It's why people pay hairdressers so much. When it's all done, she takes the mirror that her roommate offers and looks at herself in the mirror, critically. "It's… pretty. It's not ME, but it's pretty. Like, maybe if I ever have to go to … um.. formal dinner, or something, you could do this? Or, heaven forbid, a date."

"Need makeup," Makoto replies, her cheery tone holding just a hint of smug certainty. "Now look like Doctor Finn with different hair. Little lip gloss, eyeliner, could look like woman from Cortex show. Will do anytime is wanted. Is promise."

"I hate makeup," Finnegan groans. "It's takes so much time. And I always poke myself in the eye with the eyeliner pen," She reaches a set of the chopsticks. "I don't even OWN any makeup. I can barely afford the rent on this place."

"Makoto own makeup," the china doll says simply. "Learned to use early on; was Father's wish. Only knew Mother from pictures, but wanted to look same way," she adds, a touch of wistfulness in her voice. "Can use for Doctor Finn, if wanted."
She finds a plate and serves herself a portion of the noodles and stir-fry, taking a seat at the table. She busily begins winding up noodles on the ends of her chopsticks.

Finnegan shrugs a little and ladles a biteful of food into her mouth. Chewing as she speaks, she gets up and goes over to where she hung her things upon entry. She draws her personal tablet out of messenger bag and brings it back to the table. "It's not like I've never worn make up, you know?" It takes a minute to fire the tablet up and then she opens the folder labeled "Photographs". There are many folders under it. She starts with family, setting the tablet out so they can both see it. The thumbnails are small and she clicks on one. "No. That's my prom. The guy I went with was totally gay, but he didn't want his parents to find out so I said I'd go with him. He's a really good guy. I wonder where he is now?" The second photo is a little boy holding a newborn, "That's my brother when I was born."

"Not say Doctor Finn never wear makeup before," Makoto protests, and looks at the first image. "Doctor Finn was pretty date… only know prom from Cortex show," she admits. "Is dance? Party?"
The second image draws a giggle. "Doctor Finn look like tiny Buddha," Makoto says, having to lay down her chopsticks to wipe her eyes.

"Tiny Buddha? I was a baby. All babies look the same!" Finnegan backs out of that folder and tries one labeled ACMC. Lots of pictures with friends, she mostly looks like she does now, with hair loose or pulled back but not particularly well coiffed and little to no makeup. She backs out again and goes into Greenleaf. There. There's what she wants. She scans through a few photos of her in a jungle setting before she comes upon one where she's completely dressed up, arm looped through the arm of a much taller man. Her hair is mostly pulled back but wisps have been curled around her face. She's wearing a black evening gown and a fair amount of makeup. Something like this: https://ak1.ostkcdn.com/images/products/is/images/direct/fdf7298a856f97cda22688aee389d0b99bbdc0bf/Ellen-Page-At-Arrivals-For-Red-Carpet---80Th-Annual-Academy-Awards-Oscars-Ceremony-The-Kodak-Theatre-Los-Angeles-Ca-February.jpg The guy she's with is in his early middle age with kind eyes and a nice smile. He's dressed in a tuxedo. "There!" she says, triumphantly. "It was a charity benefit."

"Buddha never so /pink/," Makoto replies teasingly, and watches Finnegan work through the directories. The charity benefit photo draws a smile. "Doctor Finn look very nice," she says. "But who is date? Part of charity?"

"Just a coworker," Finnegan says, dismissively. "Things didn't work out, there. But see. See. I put on makeup and nice hair, and it didn't really make my life any easier." Reaching for her chop sticks again, she looks thoughtful. Or did it? "Besides, I want people to like me for who I am, or not like me, whichever. I don't want them drawn in by false pretenses, attracted to things that are impermanent."

"Is not pretense. Is only accent… accel… make more of what is there," Makoto explains. "Cannot make ugly woman pretty with makeup, but can make pretty one more pretty. Can help with how see self. How see self is not small thing. But, is choice of Doctor Finn," she adds, with a touch of resignation, picking up her chopsticks.

Finnegan pokes at her stir fry with her chopsticks, then drops them onto the plate and takes another long sip of the super sweet brandy. Sucking air in, then out again, she tells Makoto. "Who defines pretty? Why can't I be pretty the way I am? Why can't I just be okay the way I am?" It's a deeper question than one about make-up.

"Whoever looks at Doctor Finn defines pretty," Makoto replies. "Makoto knows Doctor Finn is wonderful person with generous heart and much skill as doctor. Other person might not. Other person only see tired woman with good hairdo. If never talk to Doctor Finn for long, never discover person behind face."

Finnegan takes up the mirror again and studies her face in it. She frowns at herself. "I look tired? Maybe I am tired. I'm probably tired," she finally agrees. "I want the world to see me as I see myself, but it never has. People never have."

"No one ever see same person as person sees," Makoto says, with a look into her peach brandy glass. She holds it up, watching the light play through it as she slowly turns the glass. "Is problem with how person sees self. Would be nice if person looked same as self, but does not happen." She smiles wryly. "Makoto would like to be same as self, but can only be person named Makoto."

Another sip from her glass and Finnegan looks over at Makoto. "I think that was so profound I didn't understand it." The alcohol is starting to hit. It doesn't take much, as she's tiny and doesn't drink often. "I see a nice person in Makoto."

"Am glad. Makoto want to be nice person," Makoto replies, and takes another sip of the brandy. "Cannot be self, but is nice second-best."

"Wait wait wait. If you're not your self, then who are you." Finnegan gives Makoto a side-long, studying look. "Oh my god. It's FakeMakoto. The NICE one." Like she's turning to a video camera for commentary, she adds, "She is pretty."

Makoto blinks, trying to make sense of that through the peach brandy fog. "Am real Makoto," she protests. "Self is how Makoto sees Makoto. Self is not real person, just person in Makoto's mind."

"I'm not sure it's fair to try to get me drunk AND to wax philosophical about one's perception of self." Finnegan remembers she's holding the mirror and sets it down on the table. She reaches up to touch the coiled braid. "Are you sure I don't look like someone from a space soap? You know the ones? With the women in peasant blouses vexing the hard working, honest captain with her beauty and unattainable love?"

"But Doctor Finn say before that Doctor Finn needed drink," Makoto points out. "Makoto only pour." She looks reflexively down at her glass, then back up at Finnegan. "Have seen such shows. Think Doctor Finn more like cheerful mechanic in dirty coveralls, who clean up very well," she replies, stifling giggles.

Finnegan finishes off her drink, "Wait. Wait. I'm a mechanic? Years of learning about the intricacies of the human body and I'm compared to someone who oils cogs? Don't get me wrong - mechanics are awesome, but I at least get to be, I don't know, the gifted ship's doctor! Who, I'm pretty sure, is too serious to put her hair up like this every day and doesn't have time for makeup, but still has a wonderful complexion and lots of… wait.. no. She doesn't really have any friends. She must be misunderstood, for being so smart and dedicated!"

"Mechanic learn for years about how to oil cogs and keep ship flying," Makoto points out. "Not any more easy." She has to stop and think about this one. "Show Makoto see not have ship's doctor. Must have been different show," she realizes at last. "So, ship's doctor could be Doctor Finn?"

"Nah." Finnegan rises from her chair and goes to look for the bottle to refill her glass. "I'm not going on a ship. I'm staying right here with my feet on firm ground. I am NOT drinking enough of this stuff to make myself sick. I cannot imagine this a second time around." Glass filled, she sets the bottle on the table where Makoto can access it, should she so desire. "I KNOW the mechanic has to study for a long time, and that it's an important job. If I WERE on a ship, the mechanic would be my favorite person. The mechanic and pilot would be my favorite other people."

Makoto takes another sip, not remarking on the irony of Finnegan not being able to imagine this a second time around, yet filling up her glass for exactly that. Not giggling on it, either, though she's tempted. She lowers her gaze in an attempt to hide the resulting grin. "Makoto know two mechanics, about year ago. Were good people."

"Ok. Ok. But who would Makoto be, on the ship? Communications officer? Do ships even really HAVE communications officers? The only ones I've ever taken were transports. I'm not sure they count." Finn slides down in her chair so she can rest her head against the back of it and look up at the ceiling. Stargazing, only with splotches left by water leaks from the upstairs flat instead of actual stars. She closes her eyes.

"Probably cook," Makoto guesses. "Cook is good thing to be. Even ship crew have to eat, plan meals."
She follows Finn's gaze to the ceiling, looking up at the splotches. "Think one of those is bug… see legs."

"Ooh. We should catch it. There's this other doctor who is always looking at bugs on the Cortex. I think she loves them." Finnegan opens her eyes a squint to make sure it's not the sort of bug that's lurking on the ceiling with the express purposes of diving at her face while she's not paying attention. "You'd be a good ship's cook. I think. I hear baking can be a challenge in space. Something about.. water temperatures? I don't know." She's left a good portion of her food uneaten. Maybe that's why the bug is there, waiting. "I'm glad you moved in."

Makoto grimaces. "Not like bugs," she says, looking at the spot again to make sure it's really a bug. "Maybe other doctor want? Better other doctor than Doctor Finn and Makoto."
She lowers her eyes to the table. "Not hungry? Food will get cold," she reminds Finn. It's only protein and cheap market veggies, sure, but they still cost money to buy and work to cook.
She's quiet for a moment after that remark. "Am glad moved in with good person. Doctor Finn is generous," she says softly, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Finnegan opens her eyes at that, staring out of the corner of them at Makoto. "I'll take the rest for lunch tomorrow. I'm full, but I won't waste good food. I'm not that ungrateful. " She sits up suddenly, making the feet of the chair scrape against the floor, and wraps a hand around her glass. Swirling it, watching the liquid dance, she says, "Ok. Ok. Stop me if I'm completely reading everything wrong. I am, you know, totally a white girl, born and bred in the suburbs, and I really don't do communication all that well. I've have repeatedly shown how I don't do communication all that well. But, I'm feeling uncertain, and curious, and also don't really care very much, but don't want to get it wrong and embarrass you. Makoto? Are you gay?"

"Communication have anything to do with Doctor Finn's worry? Earlier?" Makoto asks, feeling compelled to clarify because it's been a while since the subject came up. It also gives her a few moments to think about the question. "Makoto not sure. Not want to marry Father's choice, but because Father's choice unkind man," she says at last.

"Oh. Ok," Finnegan still seems puzzled. "But you're /not/ hitting on me, right?" In Finnegan's mind, this seems to trump the other question at hand, so she shrugs it off and takes another sip. Yep. She was holding off on starting that second cup because she feared it would taste the same as the first.

"Am not," Makoto replies. "Am saying am glad to live with Doctor Finn. Not same thing. Give wrong idea with kiss?" She looks at her glass again. "Makoto is good at giving people wrong idea," she admits, and tosses back the last of the brandy.

"No," Finnegan assures her. "I wasn't sure. Culture can be a tricky thing. I went to school with this guy who claimed to be French. Now, I don't know how you can be French when there is no France, but he liked to kiss everyone he met on the cheek. This really upset the boys. " She pauses before she tells the end of the story, "They beat him up after rugby one day and he ended up in the hospital." She considers her drink, then tosses the whole thing back like Makoto did. Only, she has more in her cup, so she has to squint the pain of it away. Hoarsely, "I won't beat you up."

"Did not think Doctor Finn would do that," Makoto replies, not without gratitude. "Not sure how person can be French when is no France, either. But Makoto is Japanese when no Japan, so…" She shrugs, grinning wryly.

Standing again, leaning on the table as she gets her bearings because she really IS tiny, Finnegan steadies herself and goes to the cabinets to get a second plate with which to cover the first. She turns it upside down, covering the noodles, because she's never bothered to get leftover containers. "It was delicious, thanks. Ship's cook, huh?"

Makoto nods. "Is job Makoto could do. Know how to cook, can plan menus for long trips. Not so respected as captain, mechanic, doctor, very pretty woman in peasant blouse, but every ship needs one."

"You'd be a good ship's cook. I would eat on that ship." Finnegan takes her leftovers to the mini fridge and deposits them. "And, you could always wear a peasant blouse and have TWO jobs on the ship."

Makoto giggles at the thought. "Peasant blouse fall off Makoto," she replies, imagining that wide neckline. She unbuttons a few buttons of her blouse, sliding it down around her shoulders… and it promptly slides down to her elbows, revealing her lavender athletic bra and pinning her arms. She tries to move them, blushing and giggling. "Could be problem!"

"Makoto!" Finnegan laughs. "You really have a problem keeping your clothes on, don't you?" She passes by the little table and tucks her chair in with a kick of her foot, then goes to sit, cross-legged, on the lower bunk. She feels for her hair again because it's missing from the back of her neck and says, "When you come down to it, all problems are really communication issues. Fundamentally."
<FS3> Makoto rolls Reaction+1: Good Success. (4 7 7 2)

Makoto, struggling with her blouse, giggles at Finnegan's observation. "Help! Makoto's clothes falling off!" she calls, struggling to work the blouse higher so she can slip it back onto her shoulders. "Not communication issue! But what kind of communication issue Doctor Finn mean?"
In the end, she gets her arms free by going the opposite route: She /unfastens/ her jeans and pushes them down several inches, freeing the tucked-in blouse tails and letting the garment slide over her arms and hips to the floor. Of course, this leaves her standing in her underwear, a fact that makes her giggle even more.
It's probably the peach brandy. Or there's a well-hidden goofball under the china doll facade. Or both. Probably both.

Finnegan sort of giggles. It's more of a snuffle, really. Then she goes all serious again, "I mean, think about it. How many wars? Ended relationships? Babies conceived? have had their roots in a single misspoken word? 'Sure, I don't mind if you sleep around.' or 'What do you mean we can't govern our own colony but still have to pay you all of our taxes?' or 'Do you like peach brandy?'" That causes another snufflelaugh.

"Is probably very big number," Makoto admits, carefully extricating herself from jeans and blouse. She collects both from the floor and moves to hang them in the tiny cabinet… which takes longer than usual because of her tipsiness. She's humming the entire time, probably something she heard in the marketplace. "Most people mind if partner sleeps around. Probably not many people like peach brandy. Other people… probably not like pay taxes to someone who bother them all the time."

"Exactly." Finnegan reaches for her pillow and hugs it to her. "So if we would all just shut up, the world would be a lot better place. All of the worlds. I think I'll start trying right now." She puts the pillow over her face and flops back on the bed. Silent.

Makoto shuts the cabinet, looking back at Finnegan. "Is really best place for pillow?" she asks, seeing it covering her roomie's face that way.

"Yes. Yes it is. I am sleeping now," Finnegan informs her, accidentally using words to do so. "Leave the dishes. I'll do them. It's the least I can do, since you cooked."

"Makoto will sleep, too. Very sleepy," Makoto confesses, leaning on the wall while she gropes for the handle to the top bunk, then gives a grunt of effort and pulls it down. It's a long moment before she clambers into the bunk, sighing as she comes to rest. "Shleep well, Doctor F…"
And silence from the top bunk. And in the apartment, save for the faint hum of a ventilator fan through the ducts. Maybe that peach brandy does have one redeeming quality!

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