"Do whatever you want." He's too tired to care. The rooftop's never an ideal place to be, considering how close he is to hurling himself off it any given day. Events don't make that better. They never make it better. Coming into close proximity with people who - people like him, who are simultaneously too much like him and too far removed for him to be comfortable drawing those parallels, none of it helps.

Some event, huh.

He's supposed to be quitting, some distant part of himself admonishes when he digs the cigarettes from his pocket and lights one up. Ask him if he gives a shit.