Dylan probably would have preferred the beer that rested in GHB's hands, he had only recently become accustomed to having perishables available to him; fruits, vegetables. He had never kept milk in his place, hadn't been accustomed to it. He took it, anyway, held the cold glass between his palms for a brief moment before raising the glass to take a long gulp. When he took the glass away from his lips, he found that it had only served to whet his appetite. He drained the rest of the glass, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and then proceeded to tear into the sandwich in a manner most uncivilized.
The instinctive hunger came over him so quickly that he only half heard what GHB was saying. He swallowed his last bite of sandwich, shuddered, and sank back in his chair, his mouth sticky from the milk. "I don't even know what to say." He muttered, "Every time I try to think about it, try to talk about it, I start feeling like someone just punched a hole in my chest and I can't stop shaking." He ducked his head, "And I don't want to get high. Not-" His eyebrows furrowed, "I haven't done anything but salvia since Dave-" He couldn't finish the sentence, his hands curled tightly around the sheet of newspaper. "No, that's not true." He glanced up at GHB. "I tried ecstasy. A couple of days ago." He almost felt guilty, the intricacies of drug loyalty were a mystery to him. "The guy who gave it to me, he's- clingy. And I just- I don't have the energy to keep up with his pushing anymore."
He was shaking. "I'm just so fucking tired of all this."