Dylan, of course, had none of Dave's awareness and felt only confusion from Dave's sudden change in focus. He was about to ask him about it when suddenly the door was opening and - oh no. All of the ease of mind that his embrace with Dave evaporated in an instant and Dylan's affectionate grasp of his boyfriend's shirt became a death grip with fingers like claws. If he could have hidden behind Dave, he would have, but their legs were too tangled to allow him to do that. Every word Marijuana spoke felt like sandpaper on his eardrums, all he wanted to do was flee. But - maybe - gods were like dogs, they could smell fear. Dylan swallowed hard and, still gripping Dave's shirt like it was his only tether to the world that wasn't insane enough to contain things like drug gods, spoke, "H-hello." He said in a soft voice, and hoped that would be enough acknowledgment to satisfy the god.