The Corner of 8th and Main

[Val Conroy]

Shit.

It was so fucking cold.

Val drew his thin jacket closer to his body as he hustled along, mindful of the patrol car parked at the curb just a half block away. He'd given it a skittish and nervous look as he passed, but the cop inside--who was a total babyface and might've looked more at home in a 90s boy band than in uniform--didn't notice him. If he did, he didn't show it.

With shaking hands, Val pulled out a scrap of paper from his jacket pocket. 8th and Main. Back alley. That was all there was on there, but he knew what it meant and more importantly, he knew what he could get there. With the crisp ten dollar bill that some guy handed him clutched firmly in his other hand--tucked away into the meager warmth of his other pocket--he turned the corner onto 8th street.

There were a lot of buildings but only one noticeable alley. All the other little nooks and crannies didn't seem to offer enough hiding room; plus, Val could see somebody lurking just near the mouth of the alley.

He hurried towards it. "Hey." Val's glance flicked over the guy. Yep. Looked the part. "I got ten bucks. How much is that gonna get me?" No pre-amble, thanks. He needed the stuff now, before the withdrawal kicked in.

[Mark Thackary]

Mark was pacing the ally as he waited for a client to meet him. This was going to be the first time the two met up, the two had a mutual friend. Mark was new to town so he needed to build up clinical if he wanted to make any money. He saw someone coming up, "That must be him. I hope that's him. It's fucking cold and I'm freezing my balls off." His hands were deep in his oversized jacket's pockets he kinda bounded to keep himself warm He had just snorted a line before he came out So he was feeling good but it intensified the cold. His bones ached as he stood out in the ally.

"Ten? Man not much, what are you looking for?" Mark shifted his weight side to side he was paranoid that he would be robbed get his ass kicked he was really antsy seeing as it was someone new he was meeting.

"I could always give you a sample if you want to chill for a bit?" He rubbed his nose and looked the young man up and down. "I'm Mark by the way." Mark got spooked and looked over both his shoulders making sure they were still alone. It was just the wind making the lid the dumpster hitting the side. He looked back to the young man.

[Val Conroy]

"I dunno, whatever you got that's about ten bucks," said Val with his trademarked smart-ass little smirk, as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stomped around a little to keep the feeling in his toes. Honestly he didn't care what he got; he didn't have a drug of choice. Pills, dope, crack, whatever got him high was the 'drug of choice.'

The offer of a sample, though, took him slightly aback. His glance grew suspicious. Was this guy a cop or something? It seemed too good to be true, and most dealers Val knew were notoriously stingy with their goods. This one was just offering him some, in exchange for... company? Or did that mean something else? Val wasn't a shy boy; he'd sold his body before for drugs, or for cash to score drugs.

"Just chill?" he asked cautiously, throwing another look over his shoulder in the direction of the parked squad car. He didn't care what the guy's name was, not if he was a cop--and he sure as hell wasn't giving 'Mark' his own name either.

[Mark Thackary]

"Well, I can get you a dime of green, or two Adderall. for ten but that's it."  He had both of them on him along with some cash and a pocket knife.

The offer for a sample was to draw him in, give them a taste and they'll come back. It was a lot more enjoyable yo have a smoking buddy. Getting high alone could be pretty depressing. But Mark had to silence the voice and visions that came to him.

"Yeah, just chill, no homo here." He rubbed his nose again. It wasn't from the cold it was from the line he had snorted, though he could be a good cover. "It's your call." Mark looked over his shoulder again looking for cops or narks.

[Val Conroy]

Ten bucks wouldn't get him much, Val already knew it, but he'd hoped that he could get more than two pills. He smiled wryly at the disclaimer--no homo--and let out a breathy laugh. "Sure, no homo." Hey, whatever--guy might just be lonely. Or he didn't want to get high on his own and risk ODing. That was a distinct possibility too. And hell, even if he was a cop, what did Val have to lose anyway? He was already feeling that jittery anxiousness from the withdrawals, and he knew that the shakes--and worse--weren't long in coming.

Options were limited here, so he had to make the best of the situation. "Yeah. Sure, I'll chill with you." He grinned, but it was an impatient grin. "No homo." Val sniffled lightly; it was really, really fucking cold out here. "You got a place?"

His was the bathroom of the town's one and only gas station, but other drug addicts used it too, so it wasn't always available. They could shoot up (or do lines) on some random street corner but Val didn't want to risk freezing to death in the literal sense.

[Mark Thackary]

"Cool, yeah I'm just up the street," He turned to walk to his place expecting the guy to follow him. "I got the heat on too so you know, we won't freeze our balls off." He looked to his new companion, "But I don't got no food, so don't get the munchies." He laughed amused by the word munchies, and it made him thinks of the snack mix munchies now he want the flamming hot munchies.

Pulling his house key out he unlocked the door and pushed the door open for his guest to head in. Mark followed after and shut the door and locked it. This area was pretty shady he would be a dumb fuck for leaving his door unlocked. "I can put a few lines down." He took his big coat odd and tossed it on the floor. Mark headed to the living room and turned the tv on and placed the remote on the coffee table. He then went to his room and grabbed a tray but he then took a detour to the kitchen, "You want a soda?" 

Once he grabbed the drink(s) he went back to the living room and placed everything on the coffee table and sat down. Crackled his soda open and took a drink before getting to making the lines. "This is my personal stash I can hook you up but this shit here isn't for sale." He opened up a small ziplock bag and broke up 4 lines. to start. "You want the first one? or?" 

[Val Conroy]

"I feel like mine are already half frozen off," Val grumbled as he hunched his shoulders against the cold—it did nothing, but it made him feel like he wasn't freezing as much. He hugged himself as they walked. It wasn't like he had anything thicker to wear but he probably should've worn an extra shirt or something underneath the ratty, frayed sweater that he wore.

It wasn't like Val ever had much of anything but over the years, he seemed to lose more than he gained. Unless it came to addiction. He gained a lot of that, bouncing from drug to drug, the addiction getting worse and more severe. It used to be that he only got high once or twice a week; now, he was only sober about once or twice a week, if that.

Being high helped—with everything. It helped him forget the fact that he was headed nowhere fast. Helped him forget about his old man, and about the life that he left behind when he separated from his dad. Sure as hell helped when he felt like there was nothing much to live for. Maybe he just lived to get high now.

True to word, Mark's place was just up the street and Val gratefully hustled in through the door, letting Mark close and lock it behind him. Curiously he looked around but his mind was on the drugs that Mark promised. "No, nothing, just... you know." He threw himself onto the sofa and gently pinched the bridge of his nose. Headache. Skin crawling. Pain. Yeah, it was starting. Val leaned forward even before Mark finished asking, eager to inhale the neat white lines cut across the table. "Thanks." He wasn't all without manners—though he said it as almost an afterthought, as he bent forward with a rolled up piece of paper to snort the powder.

[Mark Thackary]

Getting high was a past time for Mark most of the time and a coping mechanism when he thought he was going crazy. He got high alone but he rather company someone to enjoy the experience with. Mark pushed his limits testing just how high he could get sleeping for days unable to wake up all to wake up and do it again. He was lucky to have not overdone it.

Leaning down he took in a line right after his new friend. Pulling his head back up he sniffed and rubbed his nose. He sat back on the sofa arms above his head crossed he let out a laugh. He waited for the effect his previous hit had been wearing off so they had gotten back just in time. Knowing the symptoms all too well he could tell his friend was fending and he was able to help.

"You wanna play some Mario Kart?" He asked with half opened eyes.

[Val Conroy]

Val leaned back on the couch with a low sigh of contentment, letting his head drop back. It touched the backrest of the couch as he closed his eyes. The drugs wouldn't take long to kick in, and then he could sink into the feeling of weightlessness and let all of his troubles just slide away. No more worrying about what tomorrow would bring; no more need to remember all of the cold, hungry, lonely, frightened nights.

He didn't open his eyes as Mark spoke, but he let out a little laugh. It wasn't even that funny but... it kinda was to him, in that moment, as the euphoria of the high began to seep in. "Yeah man. I'd love to play fucking Mario Kart!" He'd never played before, but hell, how hard could it be? Val's buddies--the ones he mooched off of--liked shooters more than party games but it wasn't like he was going to be picky now.

[Mark Thackary]

Mark sat up from his reclined position and rubbed his eyes to adjust his vision and sniffed his nose a few times. "Cool, let's do this." He placed his hands on his knees to push himself up. He sprinted over to the console to make sure the game was in it and grabbed the controllers and plopped back on the sofa. "Here, buddy." He held the controller out for his new friend. Mark got the game going

It was like he was in the game playing, he was the Toad driving, the Wii steering wheels made it feel so much more real. Once the first race was over Mark snorted another line, this would be his third one. He was feeling pumped now his blood was flowing, "Dude, next time I'll get first place!" He pinched his nose and sniffed trying to get it all in there. He wanted to get high as fuck with his new friend.

[Val Conroy]

Val's vision focused, then unfocused. He saw Mark making for the console like his hair was on fire and he laughed--a slightly delirious, not-all-there laugh. Idly running his hands up and down his thigh, he was suddenly hyper-focused on the texture of his jeans. There was a tear near one knee and he picked at the frayed threads with almost childish amusement.

When he looked up, a controller was being handed to him and on a delayed timer for reactions, he accepted it. But Val had no fucking idea what the hell was going on in the game and since they were racing along Rainbow Road, everything was extra trippy. He could've sworn that at one point, he was racing backwards. Or Mark was racing backwards. It was hard to tell who was doing what at that point.

During the lull between games, Val leaned forward too and grabbed a second line. He grinned crookedly. "Nah man. you ain't got the skills to beat... all this!" Val gestured to himself, up and down. Cocky, some called him. He wouldn't contest that, exactly. Easing back and tilting his head back, he inhaled deeply, letting the euphoria sweep over him. This was what he lived for--the high, the sensation of weightlessness. Nothing mattered in that moment. He was happy.

"Okay, round two!"