Ozymandias and Autolycus
The moment to seize the day and smooch passed. To be honest, it would have made no difference to the guy who came around the corner into the mailroom, save for maybe him being a bit sassier. Coitus interruptus, right?
He was a bigger fella, one of those good ol' white boys with an ugly moustache, dark hair, big ropey arms and a bit of a beergut. He wore a reflective vest over a tank top, like he was a construction worker or something.
"What you two doin' back here? You ain't the mailman, and you ain't the super." He crossed his arms, looming in the doorway. A tattoo of a fierce-looking dragon flexed on his left bicep. Whoa, dude. Guy kind of smelled a bit like hard work and sweat. Like he needed some Eau de Cut to balance out his stench with the illusionist's aura of super-clean.