"If we both live long enough to get cancer, I think we should have a cancer party. Cake, coffee, booze, drugs, cigs, sex... the whole works, you know? Except we'll have cancer, which will maybe make partying kind of suck." Genma inhaled again, letting the cocktail of chemicals in his bloodstream carry him aloft. His hand didn't even really hurt that much right now. Not that he was thinking about it. Which he wasn't. Thinking about it.

Raidou was looking up at him with a question in his eyes. What? Oh yeah. Party. Genma tapped the ash off the end and passed the shrinking butt back to Raidou. "Maybe we should have the party now, you know? While we can still enjoy it. Except then our friends would think we have cancer. We'll have to give it another name." He chuckled, carefully splinting his side with his hand, and shifted so that he was leaning towards Raidou.

"Or we could just have a private party. They're gonna make you do physical therapy soon, right? Me too, I'm pretty sure, and they always have something distracting going on down there, so as long as we don't have babysitters, we can probably steal everything we need. I'm pretty sure that respiratory therapist with the beard -- the one on night shift? -- has a bottle of gin somewhere. I think you were asleep when he came in last night to--"

Raidou was giving him another look.

"Oh you know," Genma said breezily. "'Cause I had surgery and that poison I used was a cytotoxin, so there's some... Don't give me that look."