“Yeah,” I say. I vaguely remember where City and Guilds is. And I can kind of imagine living around there. I think there are a few tall town houses, maybe, in that area. “In a flat-share,” I add.

“Oh, right, artists?”

I’m making up a life on the spot now. “No, a couple who work in music and a guy who’s just working in retail at the moment but he . . . he wants to get into film.”

“Ooh, good luck to him. I’ve got a mate in film; she’s a production designer. I can put him in touch if he wants.”

“Maybe, yeah.”

Ben starts cautiously making his way to the door. I like the knowledge that, while he is struggling simply to walk across the room in this light, I could easily thread a needle. I could sit him down and draw a detailed portrait of him. As I walk behind him, I study all the fine hairs growing out of the back of his neck, his goose-pimply skin and its light pinkness. Before he reaches the door, he turns around.

“Er, so.” He clears his throat. “So, I’m upstairs. My studio, I mean. I’m two floors above. The first floor with windows. There’s no one above you, so we’re basically neighbors.”

“Oh, right,” I say. “You’re an artist.”

“Yeah—but I do this for Kora, like all the studio viewings and stuff, and I manage the building so I get the studio for free. Anyway, if you want to pop in to say hello, I’m C14. And if I’m not in my studio, I’m in The Place a lot too.”

“The Place?”

“Yeah. The Place is the common living area, and the studios are The Space. It’s what we call them.” Ben’s smiling. I can see he finds this funny, maybe a bit embarrassing. “I know, it’s a bit of a cliché,” he adds. “It’s meant to be, like, the studios are . . . your space, you know? And The Place is, like”—he air quotes and puts on a voice like a narrator in a TV advert—“‘the place to be.’” He laughs and then snorts. I find it endearing.

He puts his hand on the door handle. The papers I have just signed are tucked under his arm. “So, I should . . .” he begins.

I kind of want to follow him out. There’s something about being with him that I find comforting, even though I’ve only just met him. He feels extremely human. His smile is cute, as is his nervousness. His skin is very taut over his body in the way a toddler’s is, which I find sweet. He’s covered in little freckles.

“Unless, do you fancy getting some lunch?”

My heart sinks. At the same time, I feel my stomach rumble again.