Leander Miller (a_perfect_shot) wrote in repose, @ 2015-12-17 11:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, leander miller, matt devlin |
Who: Leander & OPEN
What: Looking for a date
Where: Ivy Road, outside Hookerville but near the Motel, Diner and Burger Joint
When: Last night
Warnings/Rating: Mention of drug use/prostitution
The thing about heroin.
The thing about heroin was that it cost money. It cost money and the significance that its users gave to it over other essential needs like food and drink and toiletries meant that a dedicated junkie was always in need of money because they were always in need of heroin. Andy wasn't rich and had shaved his expenses down to the bone - from skipping meals, staying dehydrated, picking up cigarette butts off the floor to smoke and most significantly, living in a cheap-ass trailer - in order to be able to spend as much as he could on the drug that had its hooks deep in his blood.
As a kid who'd been bullied in school and had been dependent on his boyfriend for much of his young life, Andy had few usable skills and that pool shrank even further when you added in the factors of his being too high to work or too concerned with getting his next hit to work. He'd been hooking since he'd lost Conall who used to supply him with his habit, years of getting on his knees or bending over to fund his habit. He usually had as many bitemarks and fingerprints on his neck, collarbone, inner thigh, as he had trackmarks scattered across his inner elbows and both of them were equally as important and disgusting to him.
He was leaned back against a wall for the time being near the Motel, close enough to the prostitute hangout Hookerville that customers would be coming this way but far enough away that he might be able to pick off one or two guys before they got all the way to the Madame-run business. He was as much a cliche as he could look in jeans and tshirt, cigarette in his mouth and his eyes lined in kohl because he knew that would get him more punters. He hid the shaking in his free hand by tucking it under his arm on the other side, the foot propped up against the wall steadying him too. He wasn't so bad off yet that he'd be begging for money but that point would be hitting him soon and all he had was the last few baggies in the false bottom of his shoe. He knew the strung-out and needy look worked to get him work as much as his made-up face did, only the kind of guys who found his pale complexion and nervous desperation attractive were also the ones who wanted to see if they could really make him hit rock bottom. He didn't usually work while he was this hard-up, but then he'd had an incident with his dealer and realised he'd been rolled at some point while near-unconscious; long story short he was nearly out of smack and definitely behind with his money and he needed work and now.
He'd been out in the cold for an hour and a half and few people had passed by, so when the next guy passed by he made eye contact and then nodded his head, smiling in a way that was promise and promiscuity all at once - "Hey."