Jun heard the stylist talking about Meisa's hair and smiled. She was going to look lovely and he had a feeling that there would be some striking shots to come out of it. Jun submitted to his own stylist who was pushing and pulling at his hair, streaking in temporary color and teasing out sections. "I'm getting some purple," he called to her. It wasn't going to show up very well, he thought, without bleaching it out first but it would make a nice sheen
( ... )
The only time Jun had ever worn high heels had been when his sister had forced him into it when they were kids. But he could believe that they were murderous and had a mind of their own. "Well..." he started.
And then Meisa made him laugh. Selfish? Vain? "Obviously you've never seen me work with anybody but you." He could remember being a selfish vain little prick back home. Especially before he'd come to New York City. With the call for snow he headed for the racks again. He let one of the assistants attack him with a towel while the hair people ran black into his hair to cover the streaks they'd put in earlier.
Eyeing his rack he glanced over. "I can't believe I have to put on a parka in August." It was military styling, which he didn't mind, but it was going to be going over an undershirt, a button-down, and a sweater. "Thank god I was raised in New Orleans." He'd learned to deal with the heat even if he didn't like it. He could see that Meisa had a heavy coat, too. "Going to be all right?"
Meisa looked at Jun curiously. "I'll believe it when I see it." It was acceptable to have a certain level of vanity in the modeling world, but there was vain and then there was vain. "We all have to be a little vain anyways, to survive modeling," she told Jun as she peeled clingy fabric off of her
( ... )
"True," he agreed, pulling on his new pair of jeans. At least they were mostly comfortable. The shirt and sweater, not so much. He shoved up the sleeves and went to get touched up, holding the jacket over his shoulder as they re-powdered his face. He tried not to smile as he was lip-linered. "But I'm usually so much better than they are." He sent Meisa a wink.
"More at the temples," the makeup supervisor called. "And cover up that mole."
Damn it. Not only was he sweating but they were going to cover him up again. "Not bad," he answered Meisa truthfully. He'd been in New York for a while but one never really outgrew their growing up. "It wasn't exactly the swamps, but New Orleans could get pretty brutal. I'll live." Such as it was. He shrugged and felt...something. He wondered if the heat made things worse. They'd really been through more heat and humidity this summer than he could remember since leaving Lousianna and he'd been snagging up pretty fast today considering that he'd had a proper sort of breakfast. "Or at
( ... )
"Let's go with a lighter foundation for Miss Meisa!" called the makeup supervisor. Meisa rolled her eyes, they were going to cover up her tan to get that 'pale as snow look'. It did make sense, she supposed, no one really had a tan in the winter unless it was fake. "Make it three shades lighter if you can make it look natural enough!"
"It's starting to feel like a jungle in here, isn't it?" Feeling bad for Jun, she wished that she could cast a cooling charm on him without him noticing, but unlike earlier when they had come in, there was nothing to disguise the spell. He'd definitely notice the change in temperature. Hopefully the assistants had enough foresight to blast the air conditioning on full power. Or at least bring fans in.
"We do what we must, my friend, and suffer for the sake of beauty." Meisa sighed dramatically. "Let's see what the photographer's dreamt up for the last set."
Crazy? Normal? She didn't know what to expect anymore.
Jun blew at the hair over his forehead and pushed his sleeves back down. He could deal with the heat and the humidity but he wanted to get this over with as soon as... "That's a lot of snow," he said, eyeing the fake mounds of snow and the piles of fake snow flakes in front of the fans
( ... )
"Cici," Meisa quietly pulled over one of the assistants, only half listening to their photographer, "Do you think that you could turn up the air conditioning?" She gave a raised eyebrow. "It wouldn't do the shoot any good if Jun and I were sweating buckets, would it?" The assistant nodded. "Thank you
( ... )
Potato flakes. Jun's third grade class had used potato flakes for snow. Oh, how far he'd come. He was glad Meisa had messed up first. He rubbed his smile off his face--easier than he'd thought because he could FEEL the wrong in his fingers--and faced Meisa again. She was pink-cheeked. The heat, he supposed, and also the laughter.
He held out his hand to her, shaking. "Hi, I'm Jun Matsumoto," he said in a businesslike way. "Nice to meet you."
"Mister Jun!"
"Sorry, sorry, that was just for fun." He shimmied his shoulders, shaking out his hands and took a breath. For a moment he ignored Meisa entirely. It wouldn't do to laugh again. No, he was...he was calm, cool. He was having a first meeting, random in the snow. He lifted his eyes to Meisa and leaned in close to her, sliding his fingers into the ends of her hair and freeing several flakes of potato. He smiled, just slightly. "Hello there."
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And then Meisa made him laugh. Selfish? Vain? "Obviously you've never seen me work with anybody but you." He could remember being a selfish vain little prick back home. Especially before he'd come to New York City. With the call for snow he headed for the racks again. He let one of the assistants attack him with a towel while the hair people ran black into his hair to cover the streaks they'd put in earlier.
Eyeing his rack he glanced over. "I can't believe I have to put on a parka in August." It was military styling, which he didn't mind, but it was going to be going over an undershirt, a button-down, and a sweater. "Thank god I was raised in New Orleans." He'd learned to deal with the heat even if he didn't like it. He could see that Meisa had a heavy coat, too. "Going to be all right?"
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"More at the temples," the makeup supervisor called. "And cover up that mole."
Damn it. Not only was he sweating but they were going to cover him up again. "Not bad," he answered Meisa truthfully. He'd been in New York for a while but one never really outgrew their growing up. "It wasn't exactly the swamps, but New Orleans could get pretty brutal. I'll live." Such as it was. He shrugged and felt...something. He wondered if the heat made things worse. They'd really been through more heat and humidity this summer than he could remember since leaving Lousianna and he'd been snagging up pretty fast today considering that he'd had a proper sort of breakfast. "Or at ( ... )
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"It's starting to feel like a jungle in here, isn't it?" Feeling bad for Jun, she wished that she could cast a cooling charm on him without him noticing, but unlike earlier when they had come in, there was nothing to disguise the spell. He'd definitely notice the change in temperature. Hopefully the assistants had enough foresight to blast the air conditioning on full power. Or at least bring fans in.
"We do what we must, my friend, and suffer for the sake of beauty." Meisa sighed dramatically. "Let's see what the photographer's dreamt up for the last set."
Crazy? Normal? She didn't know what to expect anymore.
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He held out his hand to her, shaking. "Hi, I'm Jun Matsumoto," he said in a businesslike way. "Nice to meet you."
"Mister Jun!"
"Sorry, sorry, that was just for fun." He shimmied his shoulders, shaking out his hands and took a breath. For a moment he ignored Meisa entirely. It wouldn't do to laugh again. No, he was...he was calm, cool. He was having a first meeting, random in the snow. He lifted his eyes to Meisa and leaned in close to her, sliding his fingers into the ends of her hair and freeing several flakes of potato. He smiled, just slightly. "Hello there."
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