"You didn't look like you only had a few cuts." Dylan replied with a shrug, and stooped over to heft the jugs out of the duffel bag. He was beyond the point of checking Henri's stuff, if the older man said he'd brought the drugs, he had brought the drugs. Not to say that Dylan trusted him, he just didn't distrust him. Sometimes. Dylan put two jugs on his shoulders and headed for the bathroom, placing them under the sink. He did this until he'd taken all the jugs he'd bought from Henri, then returned to the main room of the apartment, licking from his fingertips a bit of the drug that had leaved onto his hands.
"Dave?" He asked, looking surprised. He had figured everyone in New York would know his boyfriend's position within Marc's organization. "Yeah, he's the big guy over there, I guess." He replied vaguely. "He's been at it a while." Dylan shrugged. "Always busy, has a lot of work to do, plus-" His eyes flickered over Henri's face, trying to trace the line of where one of the more serious gashes had been. "I guess he doesn't like you, or something. Probably 'cause you don't work for Marc."