"I came this--" Adrian put his thumb and index finger close together, leaving a tiny sliver of space between them, "--close to getting one right in the back of my neck at the last match," he told her. His spaghetti finished, he got up and took both of their plates to set onto the dresser. He went to the window next, and opened it. He then lit himself a cigarette and half hung out of the window and he smoked it--he didn't like the smell being all over his room. They may have been sixteen stories up, but heights obviously didn't bother Adrian.