GHB felt it as soon as Dylan came close to the apartment. Thankfully, the sun was dipping lower and lower into the sky and GHB had been about to wake up anyway - he hated the light, preferred dark corners and crevices where no illumination could shine on him and on his dark deeds - when he felt Dylan approach his apartment door. It had him smirking sleepily even as he dragged himself up and out of bed, only bothering to pull on a pair of boxers out of some unneeded tribute to modesty that wasn't really necessary seeing as he'd slept with Dylan.
When the young man entered, GHB pulled himself up from where he'd been sitting on the edge of the bed, having taken a beer from the small fridge he kept next to ruffled sheets. Two capfuls were added, the mix of alcohol and gamma Hydroxybutric acid was downed within seconds and by the time GHB was leaning up against the hallway wall, the empty bottle was left, forgotten, on the small table next to the bed. There weren't many lights turned on in the apartment, only the light of Dave-the-snake's tank and a dim lamp turned on in the bedroom, but GHB's eyes were used to seeing in the dark.
Dylan was watched carefully, GHB trying hard not to laugh at the pathetic nature of the young man, talking to a snake like he was talking to his dead-and-gone lover. He quashed that urge, forced concern into his eyes as he stepped forward into the glow of the tank, leaning up against the wall next to it, close enough to tough Dylan, yet not reaching out right away. "I'm sorry, too." Of course, he wasn't, Dave's death had brought Dylan, a user, a useful user, into his arms, so, in this case, death hadn't been bad for GHB. "And for what Marc is doing. I don't see what he thinks he'll gain from all of this." GHB had an inkling, but nothing concrete and any suspicions he had would have to be saved, voiced at a later date.