Re: the thin and red/the actress
"If the kidnapped matched the image of a kidnapper, we would not be sitting here still," he said. His accent was plummy and warm. She had a precision that he could appreciate, lips finely painted, like a china doll's, the choice of a straight, clear spirit. He smiled at her - it was a little joke, of course. "And if you confessed on the spot - well. We might all be on our way."
"Waterhouse. Bennett Waterhouse. There. No secrets between friends." He smiled again. His teeth were very white.
He lifted his glass again with long, finely boned fingers. The tips that gripped the glass were delicate, but turned up, they were lined with old callouses. Those would never, ever fade, always reminding him. "Might I join you?" There was an empty seat across from her, after all.