Cozy was a good word for it and Opium enjoyed the way it felt - everything so warm and close together, so intimate. His old dens were arranged like this, crowded together where everyone was elbow to elbow, one high seeping into another's high and melding in one collective, group haze. The memory made him want, it made him lonesome.
Dark eyes turned towards the other god and Opium reached into the breast pocket of his coat and slid from inside it a metal cigarette case. He flipped it open, pulled out a black paper cigarette and tapped the end a couple of times on the back of the case. "Do you smoke?" he asked with an incline of his eyebrow. It was not a non-sequitur. The answer to both Tracer's question - which Opium heard as an invitation to partake in his younger brother's wares. And the answer to both questions would be the same. Opium was a tit for tat man. If Tracer wanted, he would give.