It's 2005. Kate Moss scandals left and right, flared jeans on men, emo kids who can't accept being called an emo because that is "poser behavior", teenage wrecks and unexpected relationships.

Arthur smokes a blunt, the waft of fumes flying into the skies, while leaning against a stone wall, looking into the dark skies and crossing his arms.

"Antonio, why don't we steal from that corner shop in town? The cameras are absolute rubbish"

The Englishman says with a mischievous smirk, his eyes meeting yours with eyes of complete deviousness, he throws the blunt and crushes it under his feet.