"Hmm." Dave murmured contemplatively, finding it odd that he worked for a drug and Dylan had more varied experience but it wasn't surprising that Marijuana demanded complete loyalty in every way. Hell, before that one awful day when Dave had carried Marijuana's dead body back to the Highway, he hadn't done anything but pot for eight years. Dylan sat beside him and Dave, took the cigarette easily, liking the fact that this was a drug that he hadn't met, that wasn't tied up in the soap opera that had been Highway life over the past few months. Lighting it up, he took a deep drag, and glanced over at Dylan with a subdued smile. "Thanks." He said lightly, thanking Dylan for more than the cigarette, thanking him for coming over in the first place but he didn't want to get mushy or depressing so he just leaned back on his elbows and watched the smoke curl toward the ceiling.