(Untitled)

[milfweed]

Nancy had found the pot. It was, as Helia probably would have assessed, the very worst sort of ditch weed. She was suddenly glad she didn't care to smoke, because after months under Conrad's tutelage, she was too much of a snob to even touch this stuff. ... of course, she realized that had she been a complete stoner like Doug or Andy, she'd just

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[real_buzzkill]

Wilson couldn't resist the smell of cooking coming from the kitchen. Melting butter, and it seriously smelled like somebody was sauteeing pot. Not everybody understood the fat solubility of THC. When he entered the kitchen, he saw a nice looking woman standing at the stove.

"You must be special," he said with a smile. "You're doing it right."

[milfweed]

Nancy looked over her shoulder and flashed him a smile, pleased at having her expertise appreciated. "Practice makes perfect," she assured him.

[real_buzzkill]

"Yes, yes it does." Wilson grinned a little, glad to find somebody slightly braver than him in the kitchen. "If you need a hand, I'm available. And I'm the chocolate guy, sort of." Well, he'd made the first batch.

[milfweed]

"Oh, did you make the chocolate? I was wondering who I had to thank for that. Granted, I'm a little beyond Sara Lee mix boxes, but my idea of 'from scratch' still involves buying bars of semi-sweet chocolate from the grocery store."

She stirred a little more and then poured the mixture into a baking pan. "Want to lick the spoon?"

[real_buzzkill]

"You read my mind." He took the spoon fron her and stuck it in his mouth, making a noise to show his approval. "I can't help it. The batter is the best part," he said sheepishly. "I'm James, by the way." These were going to be strong, if the yummy batter was any indication. "I'm from New Jersey, circa last year. You?"

[milfweed]

"My son thinks so too, but luckily I can keep him away from the batter by relating the evils of raw eggs." She bent over to slide the cake pan into the oven, and checked the temperature before straightening back up. "Nice to meet you, James. I'm Nancy. From Agrestic, California. And I've been here all of two weeks."

[real_buzzkill]

"Salmonella," Wilson agreed. "You don't have to warn me, I'm a doctor. Been prescribing weed to my patients for years, and some of them couldn't smoke it so I had a brownie recipe I used to give them." In California, that would have been legal. "What do you think so far? It's been a crazy couple of weeks, for your introduction."

[milfweed]

"Well, salmonella is a convenient excuse, but really I just didn't want my eleven year old anywhere near pot. Luckily I stopped doing my baking at home eventually." She turned to put the mixing bowl in the sink, then turned back to him, leaning against the counter. "That would have even been legal in California," she pointed out, then laughed. "Though in that case, they wouldn't have had to bake their own. The medical pot clubs are like the Whole Foods of Weed. They'll even make special orders for diabetics."

She ran a hand through her hair and added, "The fact that I'm able to carry on a relatively normal conversation without seeming hysterical should say something. But between the showing up on the beach in my underwear, being chased by a zombie, and meeting someone with my dead husband's face, I'd say that yes, crazy is fairly accurate."

[real_buzzkill]

Listening to Nancy talk about the way things were in California reminded Wilson of one of his favorite things about the island. "Yeah, that's one good thing about here. Anybody who has hang ups about pot keeps it to themselves. I can give it to anybody who might benefit without worrying about the police breaking into my office with a warrant."

She'd been through a lot in a very short time, and Wilson reached out to touch Nancy's arm gently. "Wow. I think I'd be hiding under the bed after that, begging somebody to make me some brownies."

[milfweed]

Nancy hadn't mentioned how much she'd hated the medical clubs because they'd cut into her business.

"One day at a time, I guess," she said. "I've finally gotten to where I'm pretty sure it's real and I'm not just hallucinating it all. As for the brownies... well, I'm not even into weed myself, I'm too much of a control freak. But I wanted to do something useful and it seemed like there were enough people here who would appreciate it. And might as well get some good use out of that ditch weed out there."

[real_buzzkill]

"There's better stuff up in the mountains," Wilson informed her. "I've been out there a few times, mostly to keep the clinic stocked, but I've been known to use it myself, just to stop thinking about being here." Weed worked for that, and Wilson appreciated it.

"So, um, what are you into?" He didn't mean it as a leading question.

[milfweed]

Nancy blinked, not quite sure what he meant by that. Was he coming onto her?

She decided to err on the side of caution in regard to that question and just took it as a request for more information. "I don't smoke it myself, but I was a dealer back home. Well, dealer, grower, distributer... not exactly what I'd seen myself doing, but once my husband died I didn't have many options for supporting my family. It's a viable business, if not somewhat... risky."

[real_buzzkill]

"I've always heard that the best dealers don't use their product," Wilson said sensibly. "That must have been hard for you, supporting your family on your own, but you managed." Here, the sympathetic doctor took over, full of caring and concern.

[milfweed]

"Thank you," Nancy said, appreciative of someone else who didn't judge her. "Though to be honest, I'm not sure how well it worked out in the end. Things were... going pretty badly when I showed up here."

[real_buzzkill]

"We can't know why we're here, but I can't think of anybody who came from a place where they were well settled and happy." Maybe there were people like that on the island, but Wilson didn't really know any of them.

"When I came, I was in the middle of a divorce. I had an ill-advised affair with a terminal patient, and moved into a hotel rather than sleeping on my best friend's couch forever. Not exactly the way I planned my life." Then he laughed, because told like that, the story was kind of funny.

[milfweed]

"The day before I showed up here... I spent most of it at gunpoint, found out that my partner's mother had my ex-boyfriend murdered by the Armenian mob, wound up one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in debt to a very scary man, and had to pick up both of my sons from jail." She sagged against the counter and laughed. "God, listen to me. Like I'm trying to one-up you or something. It's just... if I weren't incredibly worried about what's happening to my children, I'd think that I got some sort of reprimand, showing up here."