GHB just nodded as he opened up the fridge, blinking at the harsh light and trying to choose which meat would be better for a sandwich. Ham? Turkey? Dylan had said it didn't matter, however, so GHB simply poured a glass of milk for the young mortal and set it on the table. "I don't have plates..." He murmured distractedly as he tugged the bread and the package of sliced ham from the fridge. He found a newspaper, though, and set the sandwich on that as a plate, placing it on the table for Dylan.
Grabbing himself a beer, he slid down into a chair about a foot away from Dylan. His face appeared somber, even a bit sad as he nodded. "Yeah. Heroin, Marc, they both killed him." He made a show of looking a bit uncomfortable, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt, before coming up with something to say. "I'm sorry. I didn't know him but- I know you liked him. Loved him." GHB leaned forward slightly. "And I know you think I'm a monster but, really, I helped you before. I'd like to help you again, even if it's just providing a sandwich, a place to crash and a numbing high."