It took a little while for Justice to run across Colton, which probably said something for the size and twistyness of the maze. What he noticed first was the clear aroma of marijuana, a scent with which he was intimately familiar. He'd smoked more than his fair share growing up where he had; several people at the commune had raised it, and no one had ever had any qualms about anyone smoking up who'd wanted to. Consequently, Justice had had his first joint at the age of twelve.
Justice wandered around a corner and snorted at the sight of the kid, who completely disgusted him, sitting there in his pink shirt as bright as day. "You're still here?" he asked rhetorically, exhaling a plume of smoke from his own cigarette through his nose.
God bless America, the things he had to put up with around here.