One evening, as you sat alone at the counter of a jazz bar, a man wearing a black suit sat down beside you. The bar was sparsely filled, with only the low conversation of people and jazz music enlivening the place.

"Whiskey, please." The stranger asked the waiter in a low, soft voice, and the waiter obeyed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him lighting a cigarette. "The smoke doesn't bother you, I hope?" He asked, a charming smile on his face.