Raidou sketched a lazy salute, leaving a little trail of smoke in the air. "I'll remember you said that," he murmured dryly. The cigarette fit nicely in the corner of his mouth, tilted carefully away from bandages and everything that hid beneath them. He drew on it slowly, warmth slipping through his blood and bones, dancing alongside the vapour trails left by half a dozen medications. He was already half-high anyway; a breath of nicotine was more than enough.

Though it didn't feel like it, he thought regretfully, passing the rapidly dwindling cigarette back to Genma.

"Y'know," he murmured, in that same slow, careful, I've-just-reached-a-strange-conclusion voice, "if you think about it, that little vice is the only thing we own between us right now. We need to steal more stuff." He shifted, leaning his shoulder more comfortably against Genma's chair. There were benches nearby, but his IV line only had so much stretch to it. Besides, it just felt right to sit cross-legged by Genma's side.

Faithful hound. He snorted softly. Hopeless hound, more like.

"And yeah, if your friend wants to bring us chocolate, the coffee-kind sounds good. Might as well grab some caffeine to go with our cancer."