Emilie simply nodded her agreement. It wasn't a trade that she could give Rodeo. As a matter of fact, she knew she'd been taking too much of the drug and not dealing enough, and the deals she was doing were weaker and weaker. The next time she showed up to give the Dog King his spoils, she doubted he'd be thrilled with his spoils. If she had to figure out other ways to pay him, then she'd cross that bridge when she got there.
Or maybe the drug would kill her first, she thought rather hopefully, as she lifted up Clover's syringe so it shined beautifully in the low lighting of the candle. The woman was already twitching, much like Emilie, and she didn't plan on withholding it from her any longer.
"Here," Emilie murmured, handing it to her as reverently as one might have delivered communion. Her own was ready, and she carefully packed the rest of the Prax and tools away in the tin once again, hiding it in a crack in the wall before her attention was returned to the redhead and the drug in her hand.
She didn't even bother with a tourniquet, knowing all too well where her veins were and how easily they could be accessed, and Emilie slid the needle into the crook of her arm with a little sigh of relief, and she waited for Clover to do the same so they could push off together, a strangely intimate thing.