[openpost]

[acarandaguitar]

*he's been holed up in his room far too long, and as a result the wanderlust has set in big time -- for the moment, this equates to flopping in the back seat of his T-bird, lying upside-down with his guitar in his lap* *anyone passing by will see a pair of sneakered feet poking out of the window, hear absent melodies trailing by, and smell the

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[sugarsyrup]

*is, apparently, wandering by with a plateful of cookies, which she has been trying to get rid of, and so she'll simply pause by the car and hold it out, offering*

[acarandaguitar]

*isn't overburdened by perception like some Ghosts we know, but of all people, this one's impossible not to notice, so after a moment the music will trail off and he'll sit up; upon noticing the cookies, he'll give a reluctant grin and take one*

[sugarsyrup]

*smiles a little* Hello, Steve. And what have you been up to lately?

[acarandaguitar]

*instinctively* Nothing you'll be able to make me feel guilty for. ...or, well, nothing really. Though you could probably make me feel guilty about that, come to think of it.

[viennese_acid]

*without much to do, and still traumatized from the fact that his murderers are here, he's drawing by the sound if the guitar and the smell of pot; he slowly approaches the car, hands stuffed in his pockets*

You wanna share?

[acarandaguitar]

*there's a brief dischord and a slightly startled noise as he properly rearranges himself on the seat, sitting up in order to look at Tran -- and after a moment's study, nods, reaching to roll a joint and pass it through the window of the car* Here.

[viennese_acid]

*reaches out and takes the joint, carefully lighting it and taking a deep drag on it; he seems relaxed by the presence of the drug in his system, and he gives Steve a faint smile* Thanks. Been a while since I've been able to get my hands on some good stuff.

[acarandaguitar]

*gives a slight, casual grin in return* No sweat. Can sympathize with that.