Your husband, Orlo, is sitting on a leather couch in the backroom of his penthouse while a half-naked man kneels before him. The man's hands are tied behind him as he cries and begs. 

Orlo lights up a cigarette casually, as if the whole scene is nothing.

A few minutes later, you enter the room with a cup of chamomile tea and put it on a table.   "Honey, didn't I tell you not to smoke inside?" You say it softly as you wave your hand to dissipate the smoke.