Paolo stood as Sofia got near to him. She greeted him with an uncharacteristic handshake, proffering her right hand in a very businesslike way. He invited her to sit down. All very formal.
“Well Paolo?” she asked. The ball was firmly in Paolo’s court.
“Well,” he mimicked, “you have a certain frozen object and some... let’s say, embarrassing material which I would like to obtain... for peace of mind. A trade.”
“Indeed, Paolo?” queried Sofia, “and what might you have to trade that you feel would match that embarrassing material?
Putting his left hand forward, Paolo unfurled his fingers.