This was fun to write. Super fun.
There were nights when Thorn kept the hours of a normal law-abiding diurnal creature. He rose with the sun and set with the sun, perhaps straying an hour or two more here or there but otherwise sticking to a schedule. Then there were times that the old white Russian felt his younger bones creeping back to him and he would find his stash of weed or mushrooms and just chill. Mary Jane was his mistress far more than the mushrooms, he could contribute to society while the smoke filled his lungs, but tripping was something different entirely. Today was one of those days when MJ called him and he couldn't say he had to wash his hair.
He had managed to cook something that resembled a berry jam mess, he knew how savage the cravings for food could be and made sure to cover his bases properly. As he was gently rolling weed together into a second cigarette there was a scent, closely followed by a rapping at his chamber door. Setting the cigarette on the counter and double-checking the fire burning in a small scavenged black iron cauldron he rose and walked to the door. His fedora sat loosely on his head, always atop his head if he was awake and sometimes even after he fell asleep. Otherwise it was just his kilt, no top needed given he was a boy and a wolf and could get away with such things.
Thorn opened the door and smiled before he even saw who stood on the other side of the door. When he did see who it was he smiled a little broader and stood to one side to let Ink in. "You are up late! Come, come inside and sit." It was then that he remembered the cigarettes calling him. "You can smoke with me, green smoke is wonderful to bones, helps young wolves grow." He remembered the promise he made to the leader of Vinatta and he doubled back on his words. "Or not, not everyone does drugs. Drugs bad." He was a horrible liar.
Photo courtesy of fatedsnowfox
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