The idea of being in debt with James was less than appealing, but the man seemed insistant. So Fisher nodded, though James wasn't looking at him, and turned his gaze to the bag in his hand. What was he waiting for? This was what he wanted. Prying it open, he dipped his thumb in and scooped out a small mound, looking it over. It was shit, definitely, but would work well enough. Lifting his finger to his nose, Fisher breathed it in deep, not a perfect system but he didn't have a mirror or a razor handy. Shuddering, a wave of relief washed over Fisher, the painful sting in his nostril comforting. "Fuck, yes," he murmured, sighing. Wiping the end of his nose, Fisher sniffled a few times, shaking his head.
Looking up, he noticed James watching him, a gaze that was pointed yet all encompassing. "What?" he asked, a hand raised to run a few fingers nervously through his hair, twirling a few strands around his fingers.