It was known that Herr Hitler was not a very big fan of smoking, and the regime was, by and large, one that by and large, attempted to stamp out tobacco consuption. Although prior to and during the war smoking had spiralled out of control after it, with their control tight around the throat of the world, the anti-smoking campaigns had become far more prominent. Cigarettes were packaged with scary looking drawings of cadavers, the Hitler Youth would tell off indiviudals smoking on buses and trams, and now, as he approached the gate for the Glamour Hawk studios, a prominent sign had been put up. [b]Rauchend verboten! | Smoking Forbidden![/b] Then, a smaller sign had been added below looking much less official and only in English. [i]Outside of designated smoking areas.[/i]

Perhaps then, it was a surprise (or, indeed, maybe it was the opposite of a surprise,) that the first person Ben saw inside the facility was standing outside, a hand-rolled cigarette between his fingers. He was wearing the denim overalls of a literal blue-collar worker, one loop down to show his grease-and-oil stained shirt. He would look at the man, frown, look down to his staff badge, then roll his eyes and return back to his cigarette. 

The studio itself was a sprawling thing, but there was method to its madness. There was a gigantic warehouse-looking building in the centre of the compound, likely where filming was occuring, and then various other facilities for the non-stars. Although [i]Glamour Hawk[/i] wasn't one of the Native American Big Fives, it [b]was[/b] part of the growing German-backed American film industry, and 20th Century Fox had already been throwing money behind its productions. Such large studio oversight naturally lead to a bigger and more impressive operation than some United Artist poverty row indie film, and it also meant that not a single individual of the dozens that moved around were any darker than a light tan. As if to rub this in, the 'For Coloureds' water fountain was not only noticably worse quality, but actively in disrepair, having clearly not being used for months, maybe even years. Along the back side of the complex as far away from the street as could be possibly arranged, a series of trailers had been located, one of them a hive of activity, men and women streaming in and out.

If one had to guess, that would be where any talent would be found.