>>25241414A conversation on drugs with a non-participant in said conversation?
Yeah, I can work with that. I've worked with that a lot.
>“…which you gotta explain to her,” came a slow drawl, “somehow… her being your girl and all.”
>“I'm your girl.”
>“No.” Was she though? “You're a girl, to some extent—”
>“What the hay's that mean?”
>He held a lungful of paregoric, held it long, held the roach out to any willing takers, held that long as well; then, sensing no takers, and an imperfection in Rainbow's balance, shrugged and continued on his own. He spoke through a gray fume: “You fart”—Hey!—“Drink”—Well—“Smoke”—Weeell…—
>Exhaust those lungs.
>“That's cool.” Looking throughout this room unfamiliar. Prisms out of shape, out of place. Twilight there not getting it at all.
>He offered her the roach but dropped it.
>He mumbled, or felt as such as he spoke, tongue fat and dulled in his mouth, “You ain't my girl, though.” Imagine biting down on it and not realizing. A throat welling with blood and he felt all but thirsty.
>“But,” her pitch high and girlish, “…I, yeah uh, I didn't…” At which point she'd begun swiveling her head throughout the room again.
>He said: “It's just context.”
>She was blushing as she nodded. Or began falling asleep and waking in fractures of seconds. Dream of minutiae. Fractals.
>She'd like that.
>An underskin undercurrent through him now that indicated an oncoming peak. Altogether keeping collected had been manageable until now. Twilight still there, still silent. Non-judgmental stare. Her coat is nice, he thought. I would like to pet her.
>But kept such urges—of urgent nature, he felt—contained, to himself, and out, let this sofa have them. Sent them to her.
>Which, Twilight petting herself, did it, did it quite well, sent him well on his way laughing, Rainbow's echo somewhere in this room too.
