Dave closed the door behind Dylan and winced slightly at the fact that Dylan had gotten lost trying to find him. "Well, at least you got here?" He asked, his voice sounding light and a bit happy, which surprised him, really, because Marijuana was fucking engaged and there went any hope that the god would ever come back to Dave, that things would ever be like they were again. "Nah," He shook his head as he took a seat on the edge of one of the double beds, crossing his legs underneath him as Dylan pulled out the cigarette box. Joints could be dipped in formaldehyde as well as cigarettes but Marijuana hated that so Dave had never tried it. "What's it like?" He asked curiously, reaching for one of the cheap ashtrays that had came with the hotel room and setting it beside him.