"You've been in there for twenty minutes. What are you doing?"
A pause. Then the door opened a crack. Tobias's face appeared, looking slightly distressed.
"You only have one bar of soap."
"Yes."
"For everything."
"What else do you need?"
"Cleanser. Toner. Serum. Moisturizer. Sunscreen." He said each word like it was self-evident. "I usually have a ten-step routine. I've been standing here for fifteen minutes trying to figure outhow to wash my face with..." He gestured vaguely. "With a bar of soap. Like a medieval peasant."
"People wash their faces with soap all the time."
"You use that soap for your entire body. Your hair. Your—everything. And you want me to put it on my face?"
"It's soap. It cleans things."
"It's not the same soap. Face skin is different. It's delicate. It has different needs." He touched his cheek with genuine concern. "My skin is going to revolt. I can already feel it drying out."
"You'll survive."
"You don't understand. I've had a skincare routine since I was fourteen. My mother hired a dermatologist to design it. I've never just—" He made a scrubbing motion. "This is a crisis."
I leaned against the doorframe. "You ran away from a three-hundred-person wedding, you're hiding from your billionaire family, and the crisis is soap?"
He had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "When you put it that way..."
"Five minutes. Then I need to leave."
The door closed. I heard water running. A lot of water. For a long time.
Seven minutes later, he emerged. His face was pink and slightly raw-looking—clearly scrubbed too hard.
"I feel like I've aged ten years," he announced.
"You look fine."
"I look like I washed my face with dish soap."
"I don't have dish soap. Just the one bar."
"That's the problem." He looked genuinely mournful. "I need actual products. Somehow. Eventually."
"Add it to the list." I grabbed my keys. "Right after 'figure out my life' and 'don't get discovered by my billionaire family.'"
"You're mocking me."
"A little."
He almost smiled. "Fair enough."
I didn't have time to argue about skincare. "There's food in the fridge. Don't answer the door for anyone. Don't go outside. Don't—"
"Don't burn down the apartment. I remember." The almost-smile grew. "Go to work. I'll survive. Even with peasant soap."
I grabbed my keys and paused at the door.
