Dylan leaned into Dave's arm a little and watched in silence as the older man took a hit from the bottle. He took it back and placed it on the ground, just in case he wanted another swig again later. "I'm efficient. I'm good at selling shit like this, people look at me and say, hell, that kid looks like he's got good stuff." He was quiet for a moment, and then, "I'm doing good, really good, and that guy sells it so cheap, it doesn't matter when I run out, he always has more." Dylan shrugged. "I've got a gallon left. I'll probably get another five gallons this weekend, sell that, then see how I'm doing."