It was far away; even without his ocular disadvantages, he still had to squint to notice the thinnest ribbon of white smoke. "Hmm," he muttered, licking his lips, and only tasting his own sweat. "It... I don't know. If it was on fire, why wouldn't smoke be coming out of the windows? And why is it white?" The wind picked up a bit, and the warm day felt great for just a moment, taking his mind off of their current situation. He stood up and let the wind wash over him, then figured he looked like an idiot, standing on the library roof with no shirt, even if there were hardly any living folks to see him. He removed the shirt from his leg; there was a small stain of dried blood on the back, but his leg had dried up into a thin scab, and shouldn't be a problem.<br/><br/>Shrugging, he threw the shirt back on, and turned back to Alice. "What do you make of that?" he asked, pointing to the Psych hall that Paul had pointed out.