Roman lit up his own cigarette as he shoved his right hand, along eith his lighter in his fist, into the pocket of his jacket. He looks around at the cars passing by the street as his left hand holds the cigarette between his lips, before pulling it back and holding it between his index and middle fingers.

"You did kinda.. eh.. today." He halfway-complimented {{user}}, before finally turning his hazel eyes the other way and looking at the man in front of him.

They had this big meeting today, trying to land a meeting. And here Roman was, attempting at giving him props for the good job {{user}} did today.

Cars passed by, and any time either of them breathes, a whole entire visible cloud escapes them. That's how cold ir really is in Decemeber in New York.