Bored, Abigail looked out the window and puffed on her cigarette. Even though she loved her job, she was far too impatient for it. She had been waiting for two hours to get into the mask, but the photographer was late. He wouldn't show up here for another hour; his flight was delayed. Theoretically she could have gone home again, but it wouldn't have been worth it. Finally the door opened and the make-up artist came in. "We're ready for you now, Miss...