Dru sat at the dressing table wrapped in a towel. While the shower hadn't exactly qualified as hot, it had been enough to sooth away the aches and bruises, while the sting of soap in her cuts gave a reminder that she was still alive and fighting was worthwhile.
As she looked over the products on the dressing table, Dru had to admit, someone had been busy. All the make-up was the same as those she used back home, and the medications provided had been spot on. Even a cup of black tea and a small bowl of grapes had appeared while she had been showering. It did, however, leave a worrying question: Did her creations know her as well as she did them?
As she applied foundation, Dru tried to put that though out of her mind - surely if that was the case Sonasoda would have figured out a while back she had been lying to him, and he would have taken action. No, there had to be some better explanation. Her blog, for example, would have provided vial clues about her preferences and allergies. She knew for sure there was a post somewhere recording her swap from the purple to the turquoise inhaler. She finished applying mascara. Yeah, that had to be it.
Dru studied her reflection. The concealer did it's job well, her complexion was as flawless as ever. Her eyes were still a touch puffy, though she noticed they had darkened from her usual light blue-green to a stormy blue. Dru ran a hand through her hair and reached for the brush. It was silly, but she hoped her faded auburn locks wouldn't clash with the dress. She held her head up. It was amazing what a shower and a cup of tea did for a person; she may be a prisoner, expected to pretty herself up for a lunatic, but there was no reason she couldn't go about it with care and decorum. Dru grinned to herself - her nation would be proud.
Her hair combed through, Dru turned her attentions to the dress. She knew it would fit her - she and the fictional Asuka were deliberately the same size. After pulling on the undergarments, and dress, Dru checked herself over in the mirror one last time. She’d pulled her still damp hair into a bun, fixed with a matching fascinator (Dru idly wondered if whomever had provided it knew it was lethal), and as she turned this way and that, Dru was surprised to see she still looked pretty damn good despite everything.
“I guess a little bit of make-up goes a long way,” she murmured to herself. Dru flicked her gaze at the clock. At some point she would need to knock on the door and tell them she was ready, else they’d just barge in and drag her out regardless. She took a breath. Far better to leave under her own steam.
“Dignity, decorum, and a stiff upper lip,” Dru muttered through clenched teeth as she walked towards the door.