"Orange. Sure, we'll go with orange." Tess leans towards the drawer of make up, a hand pressing to his thigh to brace some of her weight.

Luke, if he hasn't already, is going to regret answering that question. Tess pulls out a tube of orange lipstick, uncaps it, applies a small streak over the back of her hand on a snort.

"I'm almost afraid of handin' you a mirror after this is all done. Mouth open," she tells him, something her stylists tell her every time.