She leads the way out to the balcony and plops into a chair kinda hard. You hear the floorboards groan, and take the seat across the table. Her head lols back and you can see her nostrils flare wide. Following her lead, you take in the surround. The street below seems pretty quiet, mainly foot traffic. The building across the way is conjoined with the ones that stretch down to the end of the block, out of sight. They all have five rows of windows, with the top ones gabled and snug with the roofing. The sun is still low, so the bright golden light glints off of only the top two rows. Several windows have flower boxes, and a few are even supporting colorful life. A few more are open, and through one you see a man fiddling at a coffeepot. After some rehearsed movements, he leans out the window with a mug in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He's contemplative. A light breeze flows through the concrete corridor, tugging his smoke in your direction. The coffee smell drifts with an attendant carcinogen and pastry. Suddenly you notice a heat on your neck. She's staring at you, leaned forward, elbows on the table, smirking. "uhh, do you know where the bathroom is?" She tilts her head and looks at you over her glasses. "P4ST TH3 B4R TH1RD DOOR ON TH3 L3FT" She has the reddest, most bloodshot eyes you've ever seen.