He nodded at the revelation that he had crushed his clock with his foot. Judging by the amount he'd had to drink at the party, it made perfect sense. "That would explain it pretty adequately," he said with a nod.
He polished off his glass of whiskey while Adam was busy critiquing Spongebob. "It does seem to be a romantic declaration," he said. "She could have meant it otherwise, of course, but that isn't what it sounds like, not to me, at least." He gestured to the bartender for another whiskey. "Then again, I'm a romantic at heart. I might be seeing something that isn't there, but somehow I doubt she would have gone to the trouble to leave you a note if all she wanted to point out was a difference in blood temperature."
"You'll have to reply eventually, won't you?" He looked over at him. "I assume you want to see her again. Why not reply?" He took the fresh glass of whiskey, turning it with the tips of his fingers poking out from fingerless gloves. He seemed to always be wearing them, no matter what the weather. "If you don't want to face her in person after what happened, a letter might be the best option. She certainly seemed to think so."