"I'm not hungry for anything a mortal will cook up for me at this point." Coke looked up from his plate and locked his eyes with Heroin's for the first time since he'd last gone to jail. It took all of his restraint not to grab him almost immediately, wrapping his arms around his Bruder and holding him closer than he would likely be comfortable with, given the wedding ring on his left hand. Coke didn't though, he stayed in his seat like a good, well-behaved brother would. When he reached out to touch his Bruder's arm, it was with that same controlled restraint. His hand shook as he did it, but he did it all the same and managed to give Heroin a quick squeeze. "It is good to see you, mein Bruder, Heroin-Hazel. Very good to see you."
He managed a smile, though it was small and tight. There was a shrug then. "Somewhere that isn't Die Droge? I never had to purchase a place of my own before. It was a choice between moving in with you or finding a warm jail cell." Though now, sitting in front of Heroin, Coke wanted nothing more than to feel that connection again. He wanted to say he'd learned his lesson about running away to the legal system in order to escape his Bruder, and he did believe it.
Granted, an addict could convince themselves of just about anything.
Coke glanced back down at the now cold hamburger and sighed before scratching at his left arm through the fabric of his dark hoodie. He didn't look like the business man people knew. The hoodie, jeans, and sneakers were far more expensive than those of the usual street hoodlum, but he still would have fit in. "You came. Danke. I suppose the question now is, will you help me? As you used to."