Day one. Los Angeles, fifteen minutes before six in the morning. The Raven Studios lot, and a makeup chair. The first makeup chair, on the first official day, not a test or an exploration.
Jason patiently closed eyes for an airbrush, a sharpened eyeliner pencil, gentle blending. Opened them and regarded himself in the mirror.
Another person looked back, a strange hybrid self. Captain Stephen Lanyon’s slightly longer hair, courtesy of extensions, enough to pull into a gentlemanly queue. Lighter in places than Jason’s own dark brown: still brown, yeah, but kissed by the sun, by salt, by shipboard naval life. The airbrush had sun-kissed his skin as well; he was tempted to touch it but knew better. Cherry Khan’s hands danced around him, working her spells; he’d liked her calmness ever since
