 Toby. Toby. Who wants me? You've got a long nose, mister. Your landlady told me you were up here on the roof. Hers is even longer than yours. What's a guy have to do to get a square foot of air to himself? Your girl's dead, Toby. Paula's dead. You're stale, mister. The smooth voices on the radio have been telling me Paula's dead. For an hour now. Up here, I thought I couldn't hear him.