Jon smiled slightly as he felt the star (or starlet? when was the cut-off-date for that?) surreptitiously return his casual checking-out. Well, she was only human; you could hardly blame her. She didn't look too bad herself, come to think of it. The propsmaster had known more than a few actresses who, deprived of professional lighting and hours in the makeup chair looked like unwrapped Egyptian queens. Tate, though, dressed for ease and prior to the attention of the set cosmeticians had a gently radiant natural beauty, a fresh vibrancy with a universal appeal that was certainly not lost on him.<br/><br/>At her joke, Jon shrugged his shoulders and replied: “Those sacks of presents get heavier every year. Take a seat,” he gestured to a salvaged and re-purposed dentist's chair. It allowed talent to recline comfortably while he mauled them with prosthetics; the leather straps placed discreetly on the arm rests and foot pad suggested other, more restraining uses to the observant eye, too. Speaking of which, Jon noticed Hannah averting her gaze... was she naturally shy (seemed unlikely for an exhibitionist profession like acting), or uncomfortable for some reason? “Don't worry. This'll hurt a lot less than<em>actually</em>breaking your arm. You're not a method actor, right?” he said with a cocky grin, trying to inject some levity.<br/><br/>Once she was seated, he carefully but confidently took her left arm – he'd researched her handedness in preparation – and lifted it up by the elbow and wrist, rotating it slowly under the light as he scrutinised the slender, well-shaped limb. Under the bright worklights, gossamer hairs gleamed like gold thread on her skin. “I can shave this before I apply the cast, if you like. Otherwise, it might pull a little when it comes off. Not too badly, though – it's all pretty fine.” Jon raised one of his own brawny forearms, coiled with wiry black hair for comparison. He then ran his fingers across Hannah's skin, watching the infinitesimal hairs deflect under his fingertips. He had a surprisingly light touch for such a rough-looking guy. No, not light, exactly; controlled. He applied exactly as much force as he intended, precision and power at once.