‘He likes comics?’ I ask, leaning in and touching the end of my cigarette to his. I inhale deeply and our eyes meet.

He grins and his teeth catch the light. ‘He loved them. Was always asking me what my superpower was.’ His Adam’s apple bobs and he lets out a big breath. ‘He passed away last year.’ Then he takes a drag and looks back out towards the Eiffel Tower.

Shit.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, my voice faltering as I reach out to touch his arm. When someone is in a lot of pain, you can almost see it pulsing off them. Like steam from a pavement in summer. And that’s what it’s like with Noah right now.

‘It’s all over, just like that,’ he says, clicking his fingers. ‘Puts things in perspective.’

We stand there for a little while, just looking out at the lights. The Eiffel Tower begins to twinkle the way it always does in the first five minutes following the change of the hour, and I wonder what the time is. Eleven? Twelve? My hair whips around in the cool breeze and I regather it to one side, trying to control it as my mind whirrs. I’m not sure what to say now. It seems insensitive to just change the subject but what if he doesn’t want to talk about his brother?

‘Is he why you started using comics in your work?’ I ask eventually.

‘Sure is,’ he says, turning to look at me. ‘You’re quite the perceptive one, aren’t you?’

‘I have my moments.’ I smile.

His eyes narrow and he starts to nod. ‘I see what you do, you know,’ he says. ‘You ask all the questions but give nothing away. I’m onto you…’

‘Or maybe you’re just so self-obsessed you don’t ask anything back,’ I quip back.

He grins and stubs out his cigarette on the wall. Then I do the same.

‘So tell me something. Anything about you,’ he says.

‘Ask me a question.’

‘Okay,’ he says. ‘What would your superpower be?’ And there’s something flirty in his tone, in the flicker behind his eyes, but I don’t bite. Not yet.

‘Right…’ I laugh. ‘Well,’ I say, taking a moment to think.

Say something cute.

‘I can kind of read what people are thinking.’

‘Really?’ he asks, eyebrows raised.

‘Yes.’ I nod a knowing nod.

‘So what am I thinking right now?’

‘Hmmm,’ I say, squinting my eyes and bringing my forefingers to my temples. ‘Right now you are wondering if I can really read what you’re thinking.’

He laughs. ‘Impressive.’

‘Right?’ I say. ‘Now your turn. Tell me something.’

‘What do you want to know?’ he asks, his eyes locked on mine.

I pretend to think about it but I’ve used this line many times before.

‘What would I find if I looked through your search history?’

He starts to laugh. ‘What kind of bullshit question is that?’

‘You can tell a lot about a person from their search history.’