Maybe it was good that the pain heavily subsided any sort of anger Brodie could have had towards Sydney for dropping the books on him. Brodie wasn't the type to be angry anyway; perhaps very annoyed was as far as he could go. But, in this case, he'd only been briefly and slightly annoyed, so it wasn't an issue. At least she'd helped him and actually felt bad for it. And she had an excuse. If Brodie was anyone else that excuse might have not been an excuse at all, but he probably spent way too long high on pills to judge that way, in any case.
"You only said butter..." He shrugged apologetically. How on earth was he supposed to guess everything else? Well that was a no-fun story. Maybe in the back of his mind, Brodie was actually hoping for kinky. He was such a sad individual.
"Yay!" He mock-cheered almost under his breath, flailing his hands without getting his wrists off the floor, jazz-hand style. Brodie did laugh when Sydney said she felt like a dealer. "No, I do have my own. Thanks, though."
And because he wouldn't like to end any conversation on the logistics of drug using - however light - Brodie turned to face her. "So. What kind of books fell on me, then?"