Namie stretched peacefully as she got out of bed. She was always an early riser, but she was more energetic than usual this morning. She was slightly curious to see what had come out of her latest prank. She stepped out of her room cautiously, unsure of what to expect. The apartment was eerily quiet.

"Izaya-san?" she called softly. There was no answer. She tiptoed the rest of the way to the living room in stealth mode, ready to escape from Izaya and/or his insane sisters. She made it to the living room safely. "Izaya?" she called again.

A pink sheet of paper caught her attention, standing out of place in the midst of Izaya's things. "What's this?" she asked aloud, reading the note.

Oneesan,

Thanks for letting us stay over. Izaya looked really happy to see us. We also found lots of carrots in your trash bin. We figured you didn't want them anymore, and we thought they might come in handy. Take care of Oniichan for us.

-Mairu and Kururi

Namie blushed at the word Oneesan. Seiji was the one she loved. But she felt surprisingly pleased at being mistaken as Izaya's girlfriend. Either way, she wasn't letting Izaya see the note. The last thing she needed was his mind games, now that he was probably even more mad at her.

"Izaya?" she called again. She peeked into his room, but found it empty. A mess or torn up duct tape and rope lay in a heap. Once she had checked to make sure he wasn't hiding somewhere in his room, she searched the rest of the apartment.

"…won't come off!" she heard a whimper coming from the bathroom.

She knocked the door, "Izaya-san, are you in there?"

"N-Namie-chan? You are the worst human alive."

His secretary chuckled evilly.

"Do you mix glue with your makeup?" complained Izaya.

Namie giggled, "What did they do to you?"

"You don't want to know," muttered Izaya.

"Well, thankfully I have the most amazing sibling alive – Seiji," she sighed dreamily. She could almost see Izaya rolling his eyes from the other side of the door.

"Sure, whatever. Just tell me why this crap won't come off my face."

"It's waterproof makeup," said Namie, "You'll need makeup remover to completely take it off."

"What is it with women…" sighed the exasperated informer. "I mean insane women; namely you and my sisters."

Namie smirked, "Open the door."

"What?"

"I'll take it off. Just open the door."

"You can't see me like this!" Izaya protested.

Namie tapped on the door impatiently, "Just open it."

"Fine," Izaya sighed in surrender, "Just promise you won't laugh."

"Sure, sure. Just come out."

The door opened.

"…"

"…"

Namie burst out laughing. Izaya scowled, embarrassed. "I'm going back in," he muttered.

"N-no! I wasn't prepared for it, that's all," she struggled to keep a straight face. "I'll be right back with my makeup things." She took it as an opportunity to laugh where Izaya wouldn't hear her.

Izaya, already somewhat feminine in his petite figure, could have easily been mistake for a girl. His dark hair had been pulled into two tight pigtails, likely glued into place. Blush had been applied over his entire face, making it hot pink. And the eyeliner that had been applied on had been unsuccessfully washed off, giving him large panda eyes. And his lips! Namie had purchased smear-proof lipstick in case Seiji dropped by while she was at work. Even after being washed off several times, Izaya's lips retained a hot pink glow. The colors had smudged in with the rest of his chin. Namie didn't wear much eyeshadow, but she supposed she had a few extra bottles lying around. His sisters seemed completely oblivious to color when beautifying him. The eyeshadow, in deep contrast with the pink blush and lipstick, was neon blue.

After she had her fill in laughing, Namie headed back to where Izaya stood, sulking. "Okay, sit down."

"Where?" he whined.

"I don't know. The toilet? The countertop? Take your pick."

Izaya grumbled, eventually seating himself on the countertop. From this position, his head was still slightly about Namie's, and she had to tiptoe a bit to see him properly. She took a towel and ran it under the water until it was damp enough. Then, she took Izaya's chin in one hand and began to gently rub the towel against his face. He looked slightly taken aback with how close she was.

"What's wrong?" she chuckled.

Izaya frowned. I would have arranged for a truck to hit Seiji as revenge, but since you're making up for it now I guess I won't."

Namie gripped his face, looking straight into his eyes, "Don't joke about Seiji," she hissed.

She felt a warmer pair of hands over her own. "Okay, okay, I didn't say I would." His hands pulled hers away from his face, dropping the towel on the floor. He released her with one hand, using it to pull her closer by the waist. Their eyes met.

You have a lot of nerve trying to piss me off," he whispered.

Namie blushed, the warmth of his breath so close she could feel it. She met his gaze, then began to giggle, "It's so hard to take you seriously when you look like that."

Izaya frowned, "Hurry up and take it off then."

Namie applied the makeup remover, gently removing the color from his face. Despite his age, his skin was soft, almost childlike. He looked up at her with an almost quizzical look as she worked.

"You might be the only human in Ikebukuro I don't love," he finally said.

"I'll take that as a compliment," smiled Namie. If Izaya's love meant setting up dangerous scenarios where people could possibly die, she didn't want it.

"You should." Izaya stared at her. He didn't need love, but Namie was something special.

Namie wasn't sure what Izaya's comment meant, nor did she think it mattered even to brood over. He was a strange man. He was dangerous; one of the few men who could stand up to Shizuo. He was a person who enjoyed tormenting others. But at the same time he was strangely innocent. His actions exposed his immaturity. And right now, as she gently brushed the makeup from his face and he looked up at her with that trusting expression, she felt as though it was her duty to take care of and protect the troublesome informer.