"Well, a lot of my chums are involved in the arts in some shape or style. Actors, painters, poets, novelists, singers, those sorts of folk. Everywhere else there always seems to be a lot of fuss over that sort of thing, but in the entertainment crowd..." he shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it's a bit strange, but...the people I know, that I consider my friends, they don't seem to care one way or the other, as long as you're not screaming it at them. Still, it pays to be cautious, you can never be entirely sure what a person thinks on the matter until you say something. The real threat is blackmail, really. Someone who doesn't like you finds out, and holds it over your head." He looked down, a sad look crossing his features.

"I've decided that I can't tell my friends. I don't think any of them would mind, actually, we all were at Eton, after all. But not a one of them is terribly good at keeping their lips sealed."

He brightened, suddenly. "But as for the skin bit. Might as well be comfortable, what? It's not like they're selling new ones at the corner shop!"