He's tracing lazily over the lines of the tattoo, feeling a little more like he's on the real stuff now with the added buzz of a cigarette fresh in his nerves, and the fact that it feels so warm and so much like home should scare him more than it does. Instead, he reaches the better of his two arms up behind him to sit up a little, trying to stay level with the kid he doesn't trust not to smother him.

The topic change is welcomed, even if he sort of wishes Leech were here now, because he feels bad and good and high and too sober all at the same time, and Leech would... well he doesn't know, but it would be nice, right now. "Fuck, I've... 've always known him." Can't really remember meeting him, or any time without him, for that matter. Any time without D in his life probably wasn't something he wanted to remember anyway.