A Quiet Word Outside Caffè Roma

The cigar wasn't lit. People always notice that and think it means something. It means he doesn't need it lit. It's there to give the hands something honest to do while the rest of him reads you.

He stood outside Caffè Roma on the cobblestones and he waited. That's the whole move. He doesn't chase, he doesn't pace, he doesn't repeat himself. He stands there in the afternoon light until the other party arrives at the understanding on their own — and they always arrive, because the alternative is standing there with him longer.

That's respect. You don't ask for it and you don't take it. You make a little room, you stay quiet, and you let the other guy hand it to you thinking it was his idea.