IC Inbox for Hadriel

[zen_en_vert]

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[greywaren]

Brought it back just now. I'm not really a smoker.

[But it's not like he hasn't done it before. Ronan pats down his pockets for the lighter, before finding it and tugging it out.]

And I don't do the fancy shit.

[zen_en_vert]

Next time bring back more. I'll teach you how to make butter.

[Says Bruce, reaching to take the joint with the expert touch of old hippies everywhere, and the lighter too.

It has been a long time, but he takes as familiar toke, holds the breath, and lets it out through his nose and closes his eyes with a sigh.]

[greywaren]

Butter?

[He scoffs a little at that, but takes the lighter back and lights up his own, impassive at the taste of smoke.]

Not brownies or some other shit?

[zen_en_vert]

You can turn butter into anything you want. Toffees, sweet georgia browns, vegan nut bars, cocoa-

[He explains, amused- in his day they passed pot back and forth, but okay then.]

Bake it into a muffin and eat it with a warm, fresh slab on top-

[greywaren]

[He laughs.]

Sounds like a hassle. I'd rather just get drunk.

[zen_en_vert]

My father was the drinker.

[So, like so many people, he veered hard in the other direction. He looks around now, and finds a set of steps to sit down on, with a long sigh.]

[greywaren]

[That makes him go a little quiet, and Ronan remains standing.]

He was an asshole. Shouldn't ruin the whole experience for you.

[zen_en_vert]

With my temper? Yes, I should.

[He says, blowing out smoke again, before urging him.]

Don't loom.

[greywaren]

I like looming.

[But he ambles over to sit near Bruce anyway, taking in a sizable puff and holding it in his lungs, before exhaling.]

I dunno. I get pissed, but I wouldn't hurt anyone who wasn't asking for it. I don't think you would either.

[zen_en_vert]

Well, you're wrong about that. When I became the Hulk, that first accident, I killed three colleagues.

And I did much, much worse before that happened.

[greywaren]

I didn't forget.

[He says, bristling.]

But you didn't kill me.

[zen_en_vert]

Worse than I've told you.

[He promises, closing his eyes.]

[greywaren]

Yeah?

[He shrugs.]

You're here now.

[zen_en_vert]

I'm here now.

Your brain makes bad weed. Maybe I should start growing some.

[greywaren]

Oh, fuck you.

[That startles a little chuckle out of him.]

I told you I don't smoke much.

[zen_en_vert]

No wonder.

[He says, as though this is why.]

[greywaren]

Asshole.

[Ronan makes a face.]

How would you even grow anything without me? Gonna ask the gods for a pot plant?

[zen_en_vert]

Why not? They keep telling us they're here for us.

Maybe I'll try this guy.

[Patting the step.]

[greywaren]

Asshole.

[But it's a little affectionate.]

That's the last time I do something nice for you.

[zen_en_vert]

Amazing how after a year you finally know the real me.

[greywaren]

Pretty sure I called you an asshole one of the first times we met.

[He points out helpfully.]

[zen_en_vert]

You don't get points for accuracy if you're machine gun strafing.

[greywaren]

[The analogy surprises him into a laugh. And he keeps laughing, because it's easy and it feels good and because he's a little stoned.]

[zen_en_vert]

[Which sets Bruce off in his own right, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

All right, he's not angry at anything right now.]