Chéri listens to the description that Darius makes and gradually changes their face. It is uncanny how, muscle by muscle, it became something else: starting from the brow, the muscles seemed to lose any strength, the eyebrows flattened into a line that promised never to rise, the eyes started to be less open, as if the had precociously started to have extra heavy skin at their extremities and took. The light dimmed and left space to a vacuous glaze, making them look like empty glass, the nose stopped moving entirely and it seemed to almost stretch slightly, going from properly perky to almost thin and the lips became hard in their closeness, as if they hadn’t been used in a while. This was a face of someone who wasn’t used to be looked at, who saw themselves as not relevant and had thought about it long and hard. Calliope’s light looked now small and warm. It was like it had gone from a sun to a candle. Both could be beautiful, but it had to be a choice. “How about this?” Chéri said, the voice as happy as it had been before, in an uncanny contrast.

Chéri put themselves in the pose with no difficulty, actually finding some respite in putting all their muscles to some use. Blocking them and resisting the urge of changing position was something and it was something that belonged to them. “Of course I was.” Said the sad-faced model, still with the same neutral tone. “I will” they assurde Darius.”