V sat himself, lacing his hands before him on the tabletop. Black leather gloves, fingertips scuffed, but not scratched. A moment passed of silent regard. "That is most unfortunate..."

A small shrug. "I don't believe there is a proper theatre, but I've begun to believe that it isn't necessary, what with the cast of characters strolling the streets. Look at anybody. Everybody is a hero, a lover, a fool, a villain. Everybody. Everybody has their story to tell. I would like, very much, to hear your story, or what of it you'd care to share with a stranger. If there is any...?"