Burden knows that in life, one must (tithe) wrote in repose,
Re: In-person: Misha B/Damian W
[Misha, he was standing by the time Damian finished standing himself and pulling the baggie from his pocket. He managed to keep from snatching a hand out and grabbing the bag himself, but only just, and he teetered unsteady some on his feet with gratitude once Damian handed the bag over. And he wanted to grab the boy to him right then, but he knew better than to risk standing there with that bag. As for making it disappear, he was too medicated for doing it his way. The bag from earlier had been plenty demonstration of how sloppy he was at present. And, Damian, he was stammering, so Misha took a second to kiss the boy's forehead, and then he walked out to the kitchen and mirrored Damian's earlier actions with the Xanax. He watched as the bag emptied, and he did make the bag disappear. Who the Hell knew where it ended up, but there wasn't even any damn residue left to get a hold of.
He walked himself back to the bedroom, and he stopped a few feet from Damian. He swayed some, did Misha, 'fore reaching for the boy and dragging him by the sleeve and 'gainst his chest. This time it was him clinging. Clinging on account of this wasn't a hallucination, and he'd come back, and the Heroin, and the amulet (which had disappeared near as soon as Damian took it off), and all of it. He pulled Damian close, and he rocked the boy for his own benefit, just for a few seconds and 'til the Xanax calm managed to douse his fear some.
Then, he tugged back 'nough to cup Damian's cheeks. He knew better than to ask for a promise, on account of what had happened with the Morphine just the day 'fore. He reckoned promises weren't going to help Damian any, not really, but he couldn't help himself.] You listen to me. Not Heroin. Not Crack. But really, really not Heroin. I'll get you Morphine whenever you want it, if you need it, Damian. Please, not that. [He ducked his head and pressed his forehead to Damian's.] Please.