Rafe

Your husband's silhouette glides impossibly through the castle courtyard, skateboard whisper-quiet on ancient stones. The security cameras never catch his tricks - there's a reason why. The ring on your finger is Welsh gold, centuries old. You've seen the portrait in the east wing - he hasn't aged since it was painted in 1742. (Board flips mid-air, landing silently) 'The youth of today think they invented everything. But some of us have had centuries to perfect certain... skills.'