You see a young man on a balcony nursing a cigarette. His eyes have been following you…

"A shame. Young man like you, with a body like yours, you'd be a credit to any track team."

"Trust me, I'm not a team player," he says with a honeyed smile.

"Nothing. You should give up smoking, son. It's not good for your health."

"You're right, it's horrible for the skin. Very ageing." He takes another drag, before shaking off the ash.

Not that he has to worry about getting old yet -- he's sparkling with youth, a radiant demi-god.

There's something about the way he carries himself... Something enviable, mysterious, attractive...

"No problem. We'll talk more next time." [Leave.]

"There won't be a next time." He takes a last drag of his cigarette, before stubbing it out in the balcony snow. "I really need to get going."

"I'll come back to this later." [Leave.]

"No trouble from me, I just want to know what's going on here."

"You hiding something? Speak up, this is the police."

"Too late, young man. Trouble's found you."

"Sorry, I don't have time for this. I just want to finish my cigarette and be gone."