Wisdom God Church, mail sorting room.
Austin Jacob was slouching in his chair, observing his old friend Wakan, who was ostentatiously flaunting his golden cigarette case.
Clearly annoyed by this, Wakan's side was occupied by a red-haired young lady who, while sorting through the mail in her hands, helplessly chuckled, "Austin, my old classmate, can't you act a bit more mature?"
"I am mature, dear Julie. Look, I'm in my thirties, almost forty," Austin replied, opening the cigarette case and flicking a cigarette towards his old friend Wakan, then placing another one to his lips.
"But I feel you are no different from a child," countered the young lady named Julie, squinting and smiling.
"Is that because men remain boys until they die?" said Austin, settling into his chair just as a parishioner entered carrying a stack of mails; he didn't want to trip the parishioner with his outstretched legs. "It's my first time seeing the Central Diocese of Copenhagen this busy."
