Summary: Roger adjusts to life after being raised from the dead. Written for Boosette on Goldenlake, whose request was "Roger - zombie beauty routine"
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"Master?" Delia hovered nervously behind him. "Do you need some help?"
Roger ignored her, continuing to watch his reflection as he applied kohl around his eyes with what he thought was great care.
She tried again. "Roger. I have... steady hands. Maybe I should apply your face paint?" She smiled prettily at him, inviting him to accept her invitation.
He continued to ignore her.
It was Alex's turn. He cleared his throat, deciding bluntness was the key. "Perhaps that's enough kohl, Master."
Roger paused for a moment, mildly surprised. He caught Alex's eye in the mirror for a moment, before the younger man averted his gaze. "You think kohl no longer suits me, Alex?" The tone of his voice was incredulous.
Delia let out a most unladylike snort before quickly composing herself.
Alex glared at her. "It's just that, er, I believe it should be used in moderation." He emphasised the last word.
Roger's eyebrows, almost indistinguishable from the thick lines of black kohl rimming his eyes, shot up in shock. "... Moderation?"
"You should even it out with more paint," suggested Delia helpfully. "Some powder, a bit of rouge, some lip paint... all in natural tones of course," she added hurriedly, seeing the venomous look Alex shot her.
"I think I look fine," Roger leant towards the mirror, intent on evening out his eye makeup. "If you two are done hovering, you may leave." He pursed his lips together, adding "Unless there is something else?"
Delia exchanged looks with Alex.
"We're just... concerned," Alex began, "There's been some-"
"What?" Roger snapped. "There's been what? A plague? Some kind of disaster? Because you'd better hope that it is something of that scale, because if you continue to interrupt me-"
"-comments," finished Alex meekly.
Delia rolled her eyes. "Roger, you can't go around ordering, well, brains for dinner."
Roger stopped for a moment. "Why not?"
They stared at him.
He blinked, uncomprehending. "Are they more of a breakfast meal? Because if that's the problem-"
"It's not," interrupted Delia. "You can't eat people Roger. It's just... well it's just not done!"
Roger turned to look at her. "I see." He looked her up and down. "You can be responsible for finding me an alternative, Delia. A raw alternative." He turned back to his mirror. "You are dismissed."