Roscoe had skipped class today.
It was nothing personal to his teachers, but the appeal of casually self-medicating before leaving for LA this weekend was too enticing.
He held his vape between his lips as he hustled around his room, folding clothes with care before loading them into a glittery black leather backpack he had spitefully purchased on his "for emergencies" credit card just yesterday. Getting casually stoned off the weed he'd bought from a very cute entrepreneur just over the causeway helped him avoid thinking too hard on how much he didn't want to see his dad this weekend, and what the visit home would be like.
Showing up smelling like weed would make everything go really smoothly with his dad, right?
[[door closed; post open; casual marijuana use under the cut.]]