[Good amount of money, shows a level of trust-- or is a dumb enough asshole to bitch loud enough at one of Mikey's Muscle men, getting him dragged back behind the scenes. But it's not like Shinjiro's gonna keep quiet. Sure, he'd gotten some of the supply-- and had been bored enough to figure what the hell and give it.
But he'd choked trying to dry swallow the fucking pills, ended up vomiting, all the while with fucking scenes playing through his head: Chest pains, struggling to breathe, a massive pounding searing pain splitting across his head, soothed with the feeling of hard oblong tablets down his throat. The steely glint of a gun, the threat of going without. None of them have context, none of it means anything-- And then when he'd finally shaken himself out of it, trembling and lost and confused-- they were all fucking gone, anyway.]
Your shit's fucked, you know. [He spits the words as he's dragged in, despite the large man grabbing his arm like a vice to make sure he doesn't pull anything or keep causing further trouble in front of the boss.]
bro your supplies are wack
But he'd choked trying to dry swallow the fucking pills, ended up vomiting, all the while with fucking scenes playing through his head: Chest pains, struggling to breathe, a massive pounding searing pain splitting across his head, soothed with the feeling of hard oblong tablets down his throat. The steely glint of a gun, the threat of going without. None of them have context, none of it means anything-- And then when he'd finally shaken himself out of it, trembling and lost and confused-- they were all fucking gone, anyway.]
Your shit's fucked, you know. [He spits the words as he's dragged in, despite the large man grabbing his arm like a vice to make sure he doesn't pull anything or keep causing further trouble in front of the boss.]
The hell are you even trying to push here?
[also he wants a refund]