Caesar is already in his seat, mulling over pulled facts and other tidbits that he might feel the need to pepper his commentary with while a stylist fusses over his hair. Last minute checks, retouches... Television is not as effortless as he makes it look.

"Our viewers can only hope." Caesar adjusts the collar of his dress shirt and shoves his notes at the stylist, shooing her away. "Maybe the boy from 12. I don't think he's quite..." Vague hand gestures, here. "Sharp enough to figure out the count down."