“Relax,” she murmurs. He has one major frown line, right between his eyebrows, just like Malcolm. She presses against the skin there in hopes of coaxing it to soften.

“I am relaxed.”

“You’re still frowning.”

“That’s just my face.”

Joy keeps her cackle to a neutral witch setting. Fox’s hands are hovering again, this time over her hips as she straddles him, fingers splayed and his touch light.

“You’re very handsome,” she says quietly as she works.

“Hmm.”

“It’s true. Objectively speaking. And personally speaking,” she says. “You look extremely grumpy and bored a lot of the time, like absolutely nothing is worth being interested in. Sometimes, though, I catch you in these moments where you’re so deep in thought I don’t think you’ll ever come back. It makes me want to chase after you. I want to see what you see, find what you find because I know it’ll be brilliant, whatever it is.”

Fox opens his eyes, finding hers.

“Get used to it,” she says, smiling. “It’s all a part of the Joy spa experience. I’m going to shower you in compliments too. All the things I like about you so far.”

While the mask dries, she moves on to his hands. For this she abandons his lap in favor of sitting beside him. “How do you feel about nail polish?”

“Never thought about it,” he says. “Not really interested.”

“Not a problem.” She puts the clear polish away and begins his manicure. The steps are basic: clipping, filing, buffing, prepping, and then attacking his cuticles with an almost religious zeal.

After exfoliating his hands and wrists, she’s massaging them with a custom-made body butter to prevent dryness, when he asks, “How did you learn how to do all this stuff?”

“I taught myself. It’s not hard. You should try it.”

“I don’t have time for all this.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “You think I do? I make time.”

“Because you’re expected to.”

“Because I want to. I’m only ever going to have one body. I wanted to learn how to take care of it in a way that works for me, so I did. No one else was going to do it,” she says. “You should at least be doing the bare minimum. Do you wear gloves when you work?”

“Sometimes.”

“Yeah, and every letter of that ‘sometimes’ shows on your palms. You should take better care of your hands,” she says. “Personal care isn’t a gendered thing. You can be rough, crusty, and ashy if you want, but why? There’s a better way, I promise.”

“That’s harsh.” He laughs.

“So are your hands.” She laughs too. “Get help.”

“Sure,” he says. “What’s next?”

“Well, we don’t have a sauna, but we do have a hot tub.”