Anzu grins, and does, in fact, come 'round to join Cecil on the other side of the stall. If Cecil's serious about the spatula thing, he's more than willing to help — he even takes off his morning jacket.

And then he immediately realises he has no idea how to phrase the question ... well, in anything resembling a dignified manner. He sighs, and grips the bridge of his nose.

"Feh, I fear my question is stupid," he says, and, looking up at Cecil, eyes shining in the low light of a midwinter afternoon, asks it anyway: "darling, might'st thou shed any light on why men young enough to be mine own youthful indiscretions insist on finding me attractive?"

To all appearances, it is definitely a sincere question.