"Gustavo, being a rockstar is being able to freely express out of your comfort zone. Hard-edge, and being fucking crazy as hell", I stiffed up, leaning forward in my chair; with my elbows on my knees, in Gustavo's office.
I looked at him in the eye, as he contemplated in his black leather chair, behind his desk. Soaking in my words, I slowly leaned back, and as I did so, my leather jacket created the leathery sound of friction that echoed a bit in the office.
I dug my right hand in my jacket pocket to retrieve my cigarettes. Popped it open with the flick of my fingertip, and again with a swift flick of the same fingertip, a cigarette lifted up; I brought the cigarette box to my mouth that caught the cigarette.
Quickly I put back the box in my pocket, and with my left hand, I got my lighter. As I lit my smoke, Gustavo made a humming noise – as in his deep thinking – "You're right. It's time for a change", and with that, I felt myself instantly smile with my cigarette between my teeth.