"You're very pretty."
Izo doesn't blink, mostly because he's trying to keep his hand steady as he does his eyeliner. The comment, however, is still a little bit surprising; he's not used to people watching him work, nor used to compliments when he's had far less experience than the others and doesn't take up two tables with beautiful products. Still. He pulls his hand away, carefully checking the line in the mirror, and says, "Thank you."
"You're welcome." The intruder beams, obviously delighted in gangling teenage honesty, and Izo wonders if he looks like that without his kimono on. If he's ever looked that bright. Probably not. Izo is not a teenager described by the word gangly. He watches in the mirror as the brunet leans forward with his hands braced in the middle of his chair. "Do you do this every day?"
"Every evening. For the shows," Izo says. "I wear different makeup during the day."
Intruder opens his mouth, amazed, and Izo quickly cuts him off before he can ask another rambling question. "Aren't you meant to be- doing something? Prepping in the kitchen? Clearing kimonos for a quick change?"
Hm. Potentially rude. Izo makes a note to reign in his temper before heading out tonight. He's an entertainer, not a brute, and there may be some people entertained by a brawl but their clientele normally want tea, not fistfights.
Intruder grins, lopsided, and a little rueful. He looks like a puppy, and Izo doesn't scowl at the damnably cute action because he's trying to do his eyeshadow. "Technically," Intruder says, "I think I'm your customer for the night."
Izo stops.
Why, he wants to ask, or, what?
He puts down the brush he's holding, and tries to remember exactly what he needs to apologise for. "You're-?"
"Oh!" says the Intruder, somehow having caught on to Izo's nerves. "Yeah, well, not your customer specifically, sorry, I'm a customer in general. I wanted to learn how you guys made your tea. My brother really likes it. But you guys don't let anyone into here unless they pay, soâŚ"
Well. That's a little better, then. He'll still have to apologise, most likely, but at least he won't lose his job. A faint frown comes to his features, and Izo turns away from the mirror, basically done with his makeup, bar lipstick. "If you were here for tea, why were you watching me?"
"I already said you were pretty," the Intruder says, but then he gets rueful and apologetic again, his cheeks pink. "I just got distracted."
"Oh." Izo says, and suddenly feels himself blushing. How odd, to feel his cheeks flame, even under makeup, to know that he, out of everyone, was the person so distracting-
"I figure if anyone knows how to make the perfect cup of tea, it'd be the person who already looks perfect," the intruder continues, grinning so wide that Izo feels faint. Feels charmed, beside himself, and he sticks out his hand.
"I'm Izo. I can show you how to make the mini cakes, too."
"Really?" the intruder says, gleeful, and clasps Izo's hand. He's calloused and scarred, but the solid grasp makes Izo dizzy. "I'm Thatch, of the Whitebeard pirates."
"A pirate," Izo says, feeling faint under the force of Thatch's joy, his heart racing.
Thatch's expression falls at Izo's tone. "Do you not like pirates?"
Izo, impulsively, reaches out to touch Thatch's cheek, poking the edge back up into that delighted smile, and finds himself smiling back, uncaring of what it will do to his makeup.
"I think I could be persuaded to enjoy their company."
