It is incongruous for an otherwise normal young man to be shopping for perfume. In his own defense, it is not intended for personal use. It will be a gift, when he actually finds a scent he likes.

He is altogether unremarkable, not scruffy enough to be remembered, but at the same time not nearly starched enough for a second glance. He wears no bright colors. His search is methodical and unguided, no helpful saleswoman hovering in attendance. He is not interested in something that will suit the lady, he is interested in something that will flatter her. He doesn't particularly care if she ever wears it. That isn't the point.

He is, however, the only male anywhere near this part of the store. It's something to do with the overabudance of pinks and creams. People frightened for their manhood would do well to steer well clear.

This young man would like to claim a thorough confidence in his own manhood, though the point is open for debate.

Yet a straight man is not the kind pictured when someone of the male persuasion enters the perfume section of a store - unless, of course, they happen to be looking at a bottle that costs $300 an ounce. An ounce. And for a sixteen-ounce bottle...

Yet it was not the $300/oz bottle Ania was looking at; it was the $950/oz bottle. It was only a 6oz bottle, and $5700 was pocket change to someone like Ania, but it didn't really matter. She was looking for a new scent, and this seemed to be it. She grabbed four bottles and put them into the small basket she was carrying.

He's straight for a very given value of straight.

He glances up from his pursuits, notices her, smiles a bit, and reaches over quick as a wink to lift one of her bottles.

He's curious, he hasn't looked at that one yet, and he remembers her. She was arrogant. Arrogant people are fun.

She glares briefly, then recognizes him and smirks. She replaces the bottle with another.

"You'd better have one hell of a checking account for that."

She stepped past him to try a couple of others.

"Naturally. Don't you?"

If she wants to play the condescending game, he can play the condescending game too.

"Yes, but I have more class," she said, not looking at him. She picked up a bottle, tried it, and wrinkled her nose as she put it down. She tried another one. Not bad, but not really her cup of tea. Well, she wasn't much of a tea person to begin with.

"And you know this how?"

Of all the things he's been accused of, having no class has never been one of them.

Actually, there was that one girl. That time hadn't been very justified either.

"Oh, the same way that a woman knows ninety percent of a man's brain is between his legs."

She tried another perfume, liked it, and put two $3000 bottles in her basket. She headed down the next isle.

He restrains a sarcastic remark.

Because he is not a stalker, he doesn't follow her.

In his opinion, it's really too bad she has that terrible habit of walking away in the middle of conversations.

He examines the bottle in his hand. No, too blatant. He wanted something with subtlety.

But she didn't completely walk away. She was still in the store, after all. She did soon leave the perfume section, but she also had a taste for Merlot. She examined the wines. Not very many Merlots, but a couple. They weren't her style, though. But one of other wines sounded good. She put a bottle in her basket. It wasn't long before she was finished shopping. She got a couple more things, paid, and walked out.