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“My mom said it would give me cancer and then caught me smoking 6 blunts at the same time.”
— My other stoner friend
“Uhm… What’s this?” 007n7 asks, staring down at Taph with an unreadable expression. Taph is holding out a baggie of something… green? Without his glasses, 007n7 can’t quite make out what it is. He squints, facial expression gradually warping into realization as Taph continues to proudly hold it out.
‘weed, cannabis, whatever.’ Taph spell-signs it out with his one free one hand. 007’s expression gradually fades from realization to horror.
“Wh- that’s weed!? Where the #### did you even get something like that?” 007 yelps, pushing Taph’s hand down and swivelling his head about in a panic as if someone was actually around to judge them.
‘The Spectre plants it around the maps. It grows naturally around here.’ Taph jiggles the bag. ‘I also grow some.’
007 will admit that back in his highschool days, he was a bit of a druggie. A bit was understating it. Even in college, it was nearly every damn day that he’d get high in his bathroom, or snort dubious powders on his kitchen counter. Noli—his roommate with decidedly dubious morals—was definitely not encouraging 007 to quit, being a bit of a plug himself.
He only stopped after getting c00lkidd. His sweet, darling son. He was a grabby kid, and had gotten ahold of some substances when he wasn’t looking. That's when he decided to stop. It was hard, and painful, but he was determined. He wouldn’t, no, couldn’t be that kind of influence on his son.
But that doesn't matter now, does it? His son is stuck in that stupid, childish state, and hardly anyone here will even look at him. It would be easy to just… go back to these old habits. Take a break from the front seat for a while. Relax.
007n7 nibbled on his lower lip in contemplation. “What is this then? A deal? I don’t have anything to offer you.”
Taph presumably rolls his eyes, given the slight movement of his head. ‘Just take it. Call it a freebie if you’d like. You look like you need it.’
Then, Taph grabs his wrist, shoves the bag into his hands and then turns tail back to his cabin. Surely enough, through the lit windows, he can catch the silhouettes of a distinctive plant species.
007n7 stares at the baggie. It’s crumpled to hell and there isn’t much weed inside, but it’s something. With a sinking, growing pit in his gut, 007 tucks the bag inside his pocket and starts in the direction of his own cabin, far, far away from the rest.