As he breathed in the smell, Much ran a hand over his hair absentmindedly, thinking about when it had been longer, back then, during those achingly long summer days. Like these final dog days of summers, but without the constant edge of danger. Oh that's right, danger. Much checked over his shoulder, scanning the crowd for skulking Sheriffs or Guys, and seeing only strangers.
Danger was just far more likely to come from a vicious old enemy than a lonely (braless) stoner girl, wasn't it? Much put his hands in his pockets and smiled at her. "So, rough night?"