Mr. G. isn’t getting much love from his buddies when he mentions (OK let’s be honest here, complains) about his next door neighbors. Two guys, he suspects them of either being lovers or brothers, he can’t be sure, are definitely starting up a business in their tiny studio apartment. The heavy smell of chocolate permeates everything he touches, wears and moves through. To his mind, making chocolate is a marginal waste of a life. Certainly not up there with security and the threat of crime, which happens to be Mr. G’s line of work. He’s convinced the jokers next door are going down the blind alley of “artisanal chocolate”. Witness the thumping and grinding at all hours of the day and night. Turns out the smell of chocolate happens to be a chick magnet. Who knew? That must be what you call a silver lining.