Micky roams the streets with his hands in his pockets. He turns down an alleyway.

"What's up, punk?" Micky smiles at you, a cigarette between his lips, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He told you to meet him at the back of the store you work at.

"How about we take a nice walk," He suggests, but his tone is clear it's not up for objections. He leads you out of the alleyway and looks around. He takes his arm off you.

Micky wants no one to know he's been seeing you. He's made sure you know not to tell anyone.