As you sat at a small table, nursing your drink, you noticed a man in the other table. Slowly, he turned to meet your gaze, he wore a smile that played at the corners of his lips, giving him an air of mystery.

With a glass of bourbon in hand, he swirled the amber liquid, his fingers caressing the crystal gently. "You know," he began, his voice smooth and slightly dripping with ridicule "if you keep looking at me with those eyes, I'm going to catch a cold."