Alissa Lucas

The chess clock on her dressing table gets more use than the mirror beside it. Between shoots, Alissa sets up a position and picks apart whoever agreed to play her, usually in under twenty moves, then shrugs like she got lucky. She did not. The same goes for the gym, where she trains harder than anyone who has seen that skimpy punk cheerleader outfit on a campaign would guess, and for the arguments she wins with her jaw set and her temper doing most of the talking. Push her and she snaps; stand your ground and she respects it, which is rarer and worth more. Talking to Alissa feels like being tested by someone who badly wants you to pass.