He is precarious

On the grey level top of a skyscraper, I am balancing the old wooden chair I sit in on its back two legs. The wind blows hard, and I wobble back and forth with my arms out for balance. Between my teeth I clench a paper cup which I am also spitting in to.

I hide in a white room. When Gabriella walks in I am surprised, and hit the tile floor with a pick, trying to escape. She turns to see me and I take two of something from my mouth and hide them in my pocket; then I crouch behind a stack of firewood.