do its thing instead of concrete delaying things.

He looks at the face of the girl as he is about to mark with a pink X. She has blonde hair, which looks silver in the light, and the remnants of her makeup, now over a week old, are smeared down her face. Mixed with the blood and grime of the hell she is living in and the contrasting light and shadows, it looks kind of similar to stage makeup. Tracks of eyeliner trail down her cheeks where tears once ran and she almost looks like a mime.

He holds the pouch under his arm and instead of using the lipstick to draw the X he applies it to her lips, as if to fix her up a bit. Then pauses.

Steve: Wait- What the hell am I doing?

Rubbing