"I'm sure many men would love to have Patricia bump and grind them while they stand there making faces of desire and passion," David explained, laughing a bit. "But not me. I need this to help my career, but I want a role of substance, of integrity. But like they say, you have to do your dues." He smiled at her, trying to lighten the mood a bit. He realized how silly it sounds for a straight man of his age to not care for that. He was sure there would be a million men who would have gladly taken his place.<br/><br/>"Besides, she's not really my type of girl," he added, looking at Nadia in the eyes as he grabbed her soft hand, helping her up.<span style="font-style: italic">You're more my type of girl</span>, he wanted to say, but was afraid of coming on too strong.<br/><br/>He continued, "I'm from Charlevoix, where most of my work is."<br/><br/>She took out a pack of cigarettes, he tensed up a bit. The cravings were coming back like a freight train. It had been two weeks since his last cigarette, but his success came by not watching anyone smoke. "I don't mind, but I'm trying to quit-" he looked at her, realizing if he joined her, this might make a good excuse to flirt a bit, or at the least make a friend in this strange city. Plus the cravings were getting to him bad, with the nerves of having to wait a whole day to hear about the role. "But I think I need one too, if you don't mind me joining you."<br/><br/>He went outside and joined her, taking out his own pack of cigarettes which he kept in case he gave in to his cravings. Not the best of strategies he realized. It was a chilly day, maybe around 5 degrees. He buttoned up his jacket, putting his collar up. He had to admit, St. Genevieve was a beautiful city. Old buildings from before WW2 still stood tall and strong. The streets were made of cobblestone, and everything from the lamps to the store signs were designed to match. It was warm and inviting, he really loved it. A horse and carriage stomped by, giving an unforgiving whiff of horse... which smelled a lot like shit, making him wonder why carriage rides were considered romantic.<br/><br/>He lit his cigarette and leaned against the old brick wall of the rehearsal hall, and offered Nadia his lighter. "What about you? Are you from around here?"<br/><br/>Just then a another man, around his age, handsome, threw the door open and left the hall. "I'm guessing he didn't do so well," he commented.