Alexander switched off his phone, and turned to his mirror. The trouble he sometimes had to go to for the benefit of his employees… but no sense in taking foolish risks in this oh-so prejudiced world, or in alienating potentially useful allies. Having concealed his red eyes behind brown contact lenses, he filed down his canine teeth by the small but noticeable length they had re-grown since last week: a nasty process, though no longer as excruciatingly painful as it had been for him when he had first attempted it, centuries ago. After that, it was an easy and pleasant task for him to apply his false scars, and blend them naturally into his face with a layer of skin-coloured foundation, wonderfully concealing his own deathly pale complexion in the process. Well, after all: he excelled at the art of make-up.
Our Beloved Tyrants Scene 75
