"Let's get fucked up," He repeated. Lot followed Gabriel upstairs and sat at the table eyeing all the vials. Never had a man ever been suited to such a setting as Gabriel was here. The wild eyed look and slightly off beat thought process could have been personality traits learnt from childhood but Lot had a suspicion the chemicals had certainly helped it along.
The chest was intimidating is only because it was so out in the open. What happened to the days when people would pass their pills in hand shakes, or drop identical bags by the side of one another as people walked past? Was there no mystery to the trade any more?
He didn't know what he wanted. Uppers would have him raring to go, downers might send him into a lethargy and he had a lot to do so that wasn't going to be a good idea. Hallucinogens were probably worse, he didn't handle being out of his mind very well - there were nightmares he didn't want to tempt. "Uppers," he decided finally, "I should at least feel like I'm going to be productive,"