With a smile, Opium placed the unlit cigarette next to the ash tray along with a book of matches dipped in opium resin that released his smoke as they burned. "You're a good boy," he said affectionately, sliding the fork over to himself.
Opium's consumption of his fellow drugs began and ended with himself. It wasn't that he didn't want to partake, simply that no one ever saw fit to offer. Until now. And he was perfectly content in trading product with a fellow god. "I like what you're doing here," he said, cutting into the omelette. "You should stop by the tobacco shop some day," he took a bite, chewed, swallowed, "if you like cozy and warm, by apartment above the shop is just that. I'd love the company."