When Sean showed up, it was in a black button-up shirt and grey jeans.  The shirt was long-sleeved, although the sleeves were rolled up at each elbow, and the shirt itself was untucked, its hem hanging over his hips.  On his left wrist he wore a thin leather wrist cuff (http://www.bound2impress.com/images/10508_s.jpg), perhaps indicative of his artistic temperament (despite the fact that he was, professionally, an engineer).    When he saw that Mikkel was shirtless, he broke into a wide grin.  "Now I feel like I'm overdressed," he said.  However, perhaps as a show of solidarity with Mike, he immediately stripped off his shirt, tossing it over the back of one of the deck chairs that populated the roof.<br/><br/>Without the the shirt, two things became visible that weren't visible before.  First, around his neck, he wore a necklace that was in fact what looked like a guitar pick on a chain.  A small hole had been neatly drilled in the tapered part of the pick, and it was through this that the chain had been threaded, so it looked like a teal teardrop as it hung from his neck.<br/><br/>Secondly, his right shoulder was covered in an intricate tattoo that depicted a pack of wolves upon an arctic tundra, with the full moon overhead.  One of the wolves, in the foreground, had its head thrown back and was clearly howling at the moon.  It was apparent that the artist had spent some time on the tattoo; the details were elaborate, down to the clouds in the sky and the needles on the stunted pine trees.<br/><br/>He wasted no time complimenting Mike on his cooking, and peppered him with questions, e.g. how long he grilled the fish, what went into the salsa, what he used for the dressing on the salad.  Even though Sean was a disaster in the kitchen, he nevertheless admired those who could cook, and tried to learn all he could about it.<br/><br/>After Beth appeared at the table, and the conversation reached a lull, he leaned forward, grinning as if imparting some juicy bit of gossip.  "All right, icebreaker time," he said.  "We'll go around the table, and each say three things about ourselves.  Two of them have to be true, and one of them has to be a lie.  You can say anything; it can be sexual, but it doesn't have to be.  Then, the other people have to guess which one is the lie."<br/><br/>He leaned back in his chair, and rested his arm on the table.  "One:  I've had sex on the back of a horse.   Two: I've played back-up guitar for Bon Jovi.  Three: I've never been married."   He grinned at each one of his companions in turn, daring them to point out which of his statements was untrue.