On their first date, he takes her to the local fish and ship shop. A foul stench settles like a blanket throughout the entire one-level, ramshackle shack, the smell a mixture of all-purpose cleaner and what she swears must be piss emanating from the flimsy plastic chairs and tacky drapes.

Larissa doesn’t mind, no fetid odor could distract her from her knight in blue overalls, currently seated smiling pleasantly despite their dilapidated surroundings. He’s handsome, in a rough sort of way. Looking at his strong jaw, she thinks he might have made a fine sculpture once.

She stares intently at him all night, seeing the chips life has knocked from the plaster, but isn’t saddened by her discoveries. Because blank sculptures are exactly that; blank. Everything about Brian is colourful, from his language to his skin lightly tanned from hours spent working outdoors.

He’s zesty and although he’s never traveled further than Queensland, he’s gravely concerned about the death toll from the latest typhoon to hit a country thousands of kilometres away. She sees him trail off, and knows that the pain of helplessness is far greater to him than the scar he proudly displayed. Thirteen stitches, he crowed, flexing the white and purple skin of his callused right hand. She frowned, and he shrugged his shoulders bashfully.

And as their eyes met over the grey paper made transparent by grease, Larissa suspects she might be on the fast track to love.