The hand she'd shook fell out. She'd shaken a fake hand.
A pleasing sound, chirping laughter, mostly ensuing around the locality of his grease painted, ashen Adam's apple (oops! he'd missed a spot.) scrambled audibly like imps pirouetting away from an opened curtain that exposed the searing daylight. His laugh was soft and light, just in case he'd have to eat it later.
"Surprise! Fake hand!" He'd announced, his intention not to make her look like a fool, but to amuse her. "You might not look boring, but you looked pretty bored."