MJ
“It’s not abuse, I do it all the time with my-” Marijuana broke off, frowning lightly, on the verge of some sort of self-realization before he shook his head and shoved that aside. “Maybe he needed to be scared. Maybe he needs to know that we’re serious about needing him to listen to us.” Marijuana finished off his beer and glanced down at the fifty on the table. Could he get another bottle on Bret’s dime? It was petty, but Marijuana was feeling petty, feeling vindictive.
Marijuana rolled his eyes. “I’ll call. Don’t revert back to your stuffy self, you were actually cool when you first got here.” And there was more guilt creeping into Marijuana, but he wouldn’t acknowledge it, wouldn’t admit that he had done anything wrong, wouldn’t admit that they had done anything wrong. They were Tommy’s parents and he was supposed to listen to them. “Let me know when we’re going to contact him. And we better do it soon, I don’t like the thought of him staying with Milk for too long.”