Just look at him. This is purest scheming. He's rubbing his hands together and plotting the downfall of the person across from him, or of the model's undertrousers, or of people who don't manscape. He's salivating over the chance to leap, cat-like, out of his chair and clip someone's sideburns.
I think he's locked and loaded on his target and is deploying full Blue Steel.
Here, he is a laddish country gent who's from a very respectable family, but who has made more than a few girls "disappear" for a year after promising them marriage and a cook.

I love a man who poses with a giant champagne bottle. He's so natty. So blase. So casual. So about to ask you if he can crack that over your hindquarters and then christen them The Rumpus Room.

THIS feels ripped straight from the main titles of an '80s show -- you know, where he turns around all fast and looks surprised, then crosses his arms and shakes his head affectionately with a grin that says, "America, you SCAMP."
And this is the freeze frame from the end of the episode, over which the credits roll while the audience "claps."
This hair dye in Tequila Sunrise is purest farce.

A dear friend once said Kellan Lutz looks like a choreographer. This is where I really, really feel that. He ALSO looks like a more muscle-bound Andrew Rannells (Book of Mormon, Girls, The New Normal), which is just something I noticed today as I was putting this slideshow together and now it's all I can see.

"What shall I write? 'Love you, don't ever change?' Or 'YOU MUST PAY THE RENT?!?!?'"

I've decided this means he's a Taylor Swift megafan.

... who EATS PUPPIES. Okay, stuffed ones. But still. I just thought you might need to giggle at the sight of him nibbling on a snugglemuffin's ear. His face says, "THIS COULD BE YOU."

I know, right, Jackson? He's totally trying to steal your muggy thunder. Don't let him. Do you hear me? FIGHT.
Jackson. What did I JUST SAY? You're slipping behind. Kellan is hamming up AND he's with an adorable wheelchair-bound moppet who loves him? CHECK and MATE, sir.
I think this entire setup says it all.

But more than being a choreographer, I really feel a Marginal Vegas Magician vibe. I hope to see his face on top of a taxicab someday, advertising his show at the Luxor.

"Did you say 'magician'? No. It's ILLUSIONIST."
"See? It is I, the Magnificent David Kellenfield. I made her shirt disappear."

"I am seriously so honored to win this Esquire Award for Oops, We Ran Out Of People To Give It To. With the proceeds I SWEAR I am FINALLY going to learn how to saw a lady in half without committing murder."

"... OR WILL I?"

But this frosted the hilarious cake of magic. Seriously, TELL me this man isn't destined to pioneer a show that combines a male revue with illusion? Think Thighlight, perhaps, or just Triple Lutz, although obviously in that case it would be stripper illusionists on ice. SOLD.