Lucian leans up against a wall and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. Offers me one, which I take, because it’s free and it’s him offering. Maybe it’ll stop me talking so much. I cup my hand so he can hold the end of his match to it, and then lean next to him. Don’t know why this feels so nice. Seems the amnesia’s a mystery, but just because no one’s fessed up doesn’t mean you should jump to conclusions.

Then he asks me if I believe in a whole list of things, and I turn my head to look at him, to make sure he’s serious. God, the man smokes like he’s making love to the tobacco. It’s all I can do not to stare at his mouth. Can’t help imagining it sucking on other things. Need to stop that and think of how to answer him. I guess he is serious.

“Yeah, I believe,” I say after a while. “Not as far as to pray to anything.” That’s not strictly true, but as much as I like this man, I really don’t know him that well. “Don’t think they walk around, though. I never saw one.” Heard plenty of people who say they have. Usually people who’ve been drinking a while or who stand to gain something by it. “People get up to enough by themselves without anything spiritual making them do it.” I guess that’s tactful. Maybe he does believe in something, and I don’t want to offend him. But he’s not going to get me to start any time soon.