Vicodin was much the same, in terms of knick-knacks. His townhouse was full of unique and eye-catching things that he and Datura had collected from their travels, from flea markets, or from tiny shops tucked onto side streets. Honestly, if they liked it, chances were pretty high they'd bring it home and find a place for it.
He was at one such place today, an open-air market that sold all kinds of different things. He felt a bit like a kid in a candy store, wandering from stall to stall. He'd already purchased a few things to take home, when he lifted his head and looked around. He had a user nearby. The thought made him smile, and he honed in on the feeling, following it to a stall not too far from where he'd been. A young man stood there, and he was definitely the source of the spark in Vicodin's brain.