Dressed in gold and glittering, Media disentangled herself from Big Tobacco as they moved up in the receiving line and kissed her date warmly on the cheek. Her gift had been the protection against media devices—as much for her benefit as for the grooms and guests. Media might have needed no one, but she’d expended effort in maintaining a relationship with the drug gods and she wouldn’t allow it to be jeopardized because that idiot girl lacked impulse control. But Media hadn’t been able to resist a final, more sentimental gift: a pair of first edition, vinyl records, Pink Floyd’s The Piper at the Gates of Dawn and Velvet Underground’s Velvet Underground and Nico , both from the 1967 releases. The symmetry of year had been to perfect to resist and records were no more difficult for Media to procure than cameras were to shut off, besides, it was a drug god wedding and she felt generous.
“Dearest,” her voice was smoky warm as she hugged Heroin. It wasn’t precisely friendship—they’d been close in the ‘90s, but Media’s affections waned as he’d learned long before—but there was lingering respect on both sides. She kissed his cheek briefly while he hugged her with a free arm. “Congratulations, you’ve both done very well for yourselves.” Her eyes sparkled as she let go of Heroin to embrace Marijuana—the Drug Prince, strongest of the Big Four, and her darling drug of the moment. His power, merged with his new husband’s, nearly overwhelmed even her and she hugged him tighter for a moment. The rush was… indescribable, high, truly high before she brushed the influence away and she stepped back. Almost maternal, she brushed his hair back and winked. “I wish you all the joy of the world, my darlings," the gown whispered again in a rush of silk as she linked arms with Big Tobacco and let him lead her.