This was the second time Paul had come to London. The first time, he was seventeen. He’d stood in Victoria Station and felt more alive than he ever had in his life; back then, some woman had caught his eye and smiled. It was like the city had laid back and opened its legs for him. He’d felt welcomed by her. He’d even debated following the woman home and getting it on with her. But the etiquette was still new to him, so rather than risk looking foolish, he shifted himself in his underwear to get comfortable and went to his hostel instead.