Bringing the bottle back towards her, she refills her glass with a noisy slosh, giving herself a little more than she gave him. Tough luck. Spinning the cap back on, she returns it to the messily arranged desk, papers and newspaper clippings covering the majority of the scratched surface.

With a glass of scotch in one hand and a smoking cigarette in the other, she looks like a typical detective from a motion picture - except she's all woman, made quite clear if not by what she's wearing, then the way she positions herself on the corner of her desk.

"Plenty of places," she replies. "But if you've got no wallet, I'm guessing you've got no cash either." She says this with full knowledge, and she raises a pointed eyebrow at him, because she knows what's coming next.

"I heard Central Park's benches are nice this time of year."