If Marc Emery is the Prince of Pot, I'm the King! (upinsmoke) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-01-12 10:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | marijuana |
Who: Marijuana, Cam Harper (NPC), Mischa Lenkeit (NPC).
What: Telling an atheist that his boss is a god.
Where: Highway back room.
When: Wednesday afternoon.
Warnings: Soft drug use (marijuana), mentions of hard drug use (cocaine, heroin), language, possible minor violence.
"Mischa's coming?" Cam asked from his seat behind the counter, looking at his boss leaning against the side and glancing to the bodyguard leaning against the basement door on his other side. "Why?" Marijuana and Wes exchanged a glance, although Wes' came from behind dark sunglasses. Marijuana seemed to know what it meant, however, and pursed his lips slightly. "Just because." Cam looked confused, opened his mouth to speak again but Marijuana fixed him with a calm, weighing glance. "First things first, Cam." Cam shifted anxiously. "Empty your pockets." The mortal stood quickly, taking a step back from the counter, then a few more until his back was up against the wall. "Wha- Why?" Marijuana fixed him with a gaze that held more anger and betrayal than he was necessarily proud of but it did the trick.
A pack of cigarettes, a switchblade, a USB stick were practically thrown onto the counter. Marijuana raised an eyebrow. Cam hesitantly withdrew an unopened, bedraggled plastic baggie filled with white powder and set it on the counter on top of the cigarette pack.
Marijuana's reaction was visceral. The snarl of anger and possession that came seemed too strong to be focused on Cam alone and, to be utterly truthful, Cam wasn't his only focus when it came to that shit sitting on the counter. Even Wes drew further back, Cam hung his head, as Marijuana snatched the baggie up and shoved past Cam, who was attempting to explain himself. "Clark sent it over after Dave- I didn't use, I-" Marijuana shook his head tightly. "The next person who mentions Clark or cocaine will be exiled for a month." Then he was up the stairs to his apartment, the baggie of cocaine clenched firmly in his fist.
Once alone, he stared down at the vile substance, stomach heaving, skin under wedding ring itching, as he called up heat from the flick of thousands of lighters and shoved that heat firmly into the hand that held the baggie. It didn't take long for his palm to reach the necessary temperature and with one last snarl, one last push, the cocaine disintegrated into nothingness. Marijuana looked up at the apartment he shared with Cocaine's ex-lover and pursed his lips, rolling his shoulders back, cracking his knuckles, and attempting to bleed out his anger before he appeared downstairs.
When he did return, it was to a very pale, very subdued Cam. "You know, I could have done that while Mischa was here." Marijuana remarked smoothly and the colour that flushed Cam's face spread down to the mortal's neck. "Thank you. Thank you for not-" Marijuana gave the mortal a hard smile and pushed Cam's hair back from his eyes. "You're welcome, of course." The young man stared up at him, eyes filled with gratitude and blind love as Marijuana drew him into the back room slowly. "Sit, my Cam." The coffee table had been shifted and now there was simply a couch and, across from the couch, an arm chair. Cam hesitated before sinking down into the couch, glancing over at the TV screen which had been playing footage of Dave for weeks and was now paused at an image of Dave's eighteenth birthday party, the mortal snuggled firmly against Marijuana's side.
Marijuana slid down into the arm chair, taking out a cigarette pack filled with joints and handing one over to Cam, who took it anxiously, eyes focused on his boss and wondering what his punishment would be for having a forbidden drug on the premises.
As Marijuana dug for a lighter, lit Cam's joint first and then his own as they settled back to wait for Mischa, he thought to himself that was he was about to do to Cam would be punishment enough.