[ The conversation comes to a somewhat abrupt halt as Claude stares at him and yes, indeed, it's very illegal to smoke indoors and someone might've fired him if they could, oh, there's bound to be more than a dozen people hoping for any excuse. He's fine with it. He's seen worse. Pushing that thought away before it gets any sort of grip on him, he lights up, sending his first exhalation sideways, away from their table. Within seconds at best, someone - a woman, intern, she's been here a couple of months, works for Stéphane - gets up and opens a window a few feet away without further comment.

He's been smoking more than he used to the past year. Most people just leave him to it, thinking they know.

It's a thing. Thinking you know something when in reality, you know much, much less than you need to. ]

I'm serious. [ He smiles again, sharper this time, the smoke from his cigarette trailing upwards, grey swirls catching in his hair. ] Find a way to sell empathy and I'll be the first in line. I like it.

[ His voice lowers a fraction as he leans in: ]

I like the way it looks on people.