a bit of drafting for vic n miles' story,, so enjoy I guess. nothing much, just getting some basic descriptions down.

Victoria's father always made Miles feel uneasy.
It's not that he was mean or harsh, not by a long shot. He spoke with the voice of someone who still saw the excitement in life, loud and enthusiastic no matter what he had to say. He greeted Miles as if he were his own son, kindly and often ruffling his slick hair as he walked in the door. He was relaxed and easy to talk to, never second-guessing Miles' intentions or friendship with his daughter.
Personality-wise, Miles had no reason to fear him.

Though it wasn't how he acted that set Miles on edge, it was how he looked. Tall and distinguished, almost intimidatingly so, in clean, fit clothes that seemed to hug his frame as if custom-made, always formal. His hair sat neatly and undisturbed on his head, wavy and dark but greying a tad at his temples, ending in line with his sharp chin.

Miles' eyes were always drawn to the man's face particularly, and any mere glance at it could tell you why. His expression lined with the movement of thick eyebrows and a shiny, pale scar that branched from his hairline to just below his eye, leaving a patch across his right eyebrow where the hair wouldn't grow back. His eyes were narrow and the same deep brown as Victoria's, and the left never quite opened all the way, the eyelid drooping numbly, leaving him with a distinctive squint on one side. A narrow scar cut through the right side of his lips, matching the one on his eye, and Miles could swear that if you looked at him closely, you'd see his whole face was streaked with several more, harder to see scars. Despite this, Victoria never gave any clue as to what had slashed her father's face, leaving Miles to theorize increasingly unlikely causes for the grisly markings.

"Was he in the military?" He asked her one day, out in the wide stretch of wilderness that backed the neighborhood, well out of reach of where her father could overhear. "The Army? Navy? Air Force?"

Victoria only laughed and shook her head, quipping after a pause, "Could you really see my dad fighting in war, Miles?"

He wanted to say yes, but bit his tongue. Victoria idolized her father, she considered him someone she strived to be like. It would be nothing short of an embarrassment to admit to her that he was terrified of him. But despite Victoria's praise, Miles felt sure her father had to be hiding a grim secret under his strong, confident exterior.

Comparatively, Miles' own father was timid and doubtful, shorter in stature with heavy, tired eyes. His face seemed older, wiser, and the manner in which he spoke was slow and cautious, drawn out in long, thoughtful syllables. Despite this, the way he composed himself was casual and unprofessional, his clothes loose and often mismatched, hair appearing almost unbrushed. While Miles' unruly hair matched his father's, the sad, cold blue stare of his father set them apart, Miles' green eyes obviously inherited from his mother. He seemed to have his mother's height too, shorter than his father and hopeless at growing taller.

Still, like Victoria, it was his father that Miles admired, his stressed and overworked demeanor never interfering with how to regarded his son, always making time to tell him unlikely stories and teach him what he thought he should know. In fact, it was his father that inspired him to experiment with makeup, his mother never caring much for it, and though Victoria always had a snide comment about the way he looked, he had to admit he liked his appearance better when fixed with makeup.

"It brings out your eyes," his father had told him, and he laughed, and Miles thought it was good to hear him laugh every once in a while, a reminder his father could still find humor amid his busy life. "Are you going to wear it like that everyday?"

"Maybe," Miles shrugged, already imagining the biting remarks Victoria would surely have to offer, "I'm gonna run out of this stuff if I do, though."

His father took the eyeliner from his hand, looking over the label and scratching off the dried clumps sticking to the rim of the lid. "Then we'll just have to get more," he said with a wink, handing it back to him, "only if you want to, that is."

Miles considered this for a moment, nodding with the hint of a smile. "I think I'd like that."

And so makeup made its way into Miles' routine, and with it more taunts from Victoria. Not that it made much of a difference, Victoria always had plenty of other things to tease him about, though at the end of the day, it didn't really bother him that much.
He liked her company anyway.