"What the hell is on your face?" Director Cooper Braggs asked incredulously.
He was a decently tall man with sandy brown hair, a scruffy, full beard, and icy blue eyes. Rather than call him handsome, it was more accurate to say that he had a distinct, memorable face.
He was wearing a wrinkled navy-colored shirt, light-wash jeans, with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and as he stared at Ari, he looked as if he were watching a strange alien creature.
"Makeup," Ari responded calmly, finding his reaction mild after the nonsense he had previously dealt with Larry Jackson.
He hoped that the director would lose interest, considering the fact that he had probably filmed weirder things, but instead the man began circling him as if he were on display on a podium.
"Humiliation ritual? Lost a bet? Gay icon?"
"No. No. No. It was a….stylistic choice."
[Wasn't it because you had to cover your ugly face?]
Wasn't it because you took my stats that my face became ugly in the first place?
