Surprisingly for Alex Mars, who had concluded that the man wouldn't be smoking and an extreme addict of computer games as soon as the words "You read my diary?" had come out of his mouth, the man sat on the pavement right outside his building, two fingers of one hand holding a single Marlboro cigarette while the fingers on his other hand flicking open a lighter so fast so it looked as if he had sprouted fire right on his fingers. Then, he lightly touched the lighter to the end of his cigarette and puffed out with his mouth, smoke rising out of his nostrils like a dragon-inevitably, reminding Alex Mars about Fawkes and Hale at the military. He managed not to cringe at the exact recreation of his nightmare characters and sat down next to him-exactly 2 feet away from the man's butt. Forehead
