At no point in their interaction had Red ever given the impression that perhaps his new friend had a few screws loose. He eyed the man seriously, as if to hone the danger of breaking such a vow. Pinky swears were big time.
Convinced that Rasmus knew the gravity of such an error, Red nodded in approval.
He blinked. Who the fuck was Rhett Butler? He’d Google it when he got home. He felt old suddenly.
“Yeah, like that. Rasmus, huh? Fitting.” Another nod of approval.
“I should get going. I have shit to do. But like, we should hang out or something, if you want.” Because why not? Clearly they agreed upon a good many things and the man had given him a joint. That was like handing over an olive branch.