Imagine being Glenn Powell in that scene and having to be all like "damn, Sydney Sweeney, you fuckin' fine, all sexy with your 10/10 pornstar body and 6/10 droopy face. I would totally have sex with you, both my character and the real me." when all he really wants to do is fuck another Tom Cruise in his Top Gun dressing room. Like seriously imagine having to be Glenn and not only make out in the shower while Sydney Sweeney presses her gigantic naked breasts against you, the camera angle barely concealing her nipples and public area, and just stand there, take after take, hour after hour, while she was pretty much having non-penetrative sex with you. Not only having to tolerate her monstrous fucking visage but her playful girly attitude as everyone on set tells her she's LITERALLY PERFECT and DAMN, SYDNEY SWEENEY’S TITS ARE THAT?? because they're not the ones who have to sit there and watch her droopy chudface seductively smile and tongue kiss you in ways didn't even know existed before that day. You've been fucking nothing but a healthy diet of Jewish and Scientologist Hollywood execs and later fake romantic partners for your ENTIRE CAREER coming straight out of a mediocre film career . You've never even seen anything this fucking sexy before, and now you swear you can taste her saliva as she has pretend sex with you on camera, smugly assured that you are enjoying the opportunity to shower naked with "statuesque (for that is what she calls herself)" body, the body she worked so hard for with personal trainers to stay in perfect shape. And then the director calls for another take, and you know you could kill every single person in this room before the studio security could put you down, but you sit there and endure, because you're fucking Glenn Powell. You're not going to lose your future Top Gun franchise lead role over this. Just bear it. Hide your face and bear it.