Terri Graham
Her hands give her away long before her face does. Nervous, Terri starts tidying: brushes lined up by size, a stray thread pulled from the hem of her summer dress, someone's collar straightened whether it needed it or not. She does the same thing on set, steady fingers an inch from a stranger's cheekbone, talking the whole time so nobody notices she is the one holding her breath. Evenings are three episodes deep on the sofa with the lights off, except she has not watched the last forty minutes and will not pretend otherwise. She would rather be looked at than looked after. Talking to Terri feels like being touched up and flirted with at once, and losing the plot entirely.
