17th of Vhalar, 717
"Where do you get this shit?" Duncan grunted, glancing up at Rory from between his pale thighs, holding the sloppily rolled bud of Euphoria out for the younger man to take. Rory took it, his head hanging off the edge of the bed at such an angle that Duncan could see nothing but the pale column of his throat, his narrow chest inflating to obscure even that as he took his own pull of the drug. A long moment passed without answer, and so Duncan sank his teeth into the soft flesh of Rory's thigh, leaving a clear imprint behind. Rory jumped and yelped, the Euphoria slipping from his finger tips to the bed, singeing a hole in the linen before Duncan was able to snatch it up again. "You stupid prick." He scolded, as crass as usual, jabbing his heel into Duncan's ribs as the mercenary took another drag.
"I buy from some bird in Crazed Corner. Now give it back, go buy your own if you like it so much." Duncan snorted out a laugh and pushed himself upright. "Right, I will then, you skinny little cow." He grunted, pushing up from the bed, only to be pulled back down by Rory, his thin arms wrapping around his shoulders. "Wait, wait! Give me five bits and I'll be good to go again." Rory purred with a wink, drawing Duncan back onto the bed. "Then you can go." Duncan grinned, plucking the Euphoria from Rory's fingertips. "Fine." He started, smoke curling out from between his lips as he flicked the butt to the side. "But you'll need to at least give me fifteen."
The Crazed Corner was hardly a corner at all, and was instead a winding alley, small off-shoots turning the trail into a confusion of dead ends and mysterious doors. Duncan walked slowly, his eyes scanning those around him, searching for any tell tale sign of what he was after. The alley was dark, and many of those around him hurried past, their faces covered, or with weapons very obviously carried, as if a deterrent. Duncan didn't bother with any of it, he was large enough to deter most on with his appearance alone, and he was happy to wager that he'd be more than able to deal with any more desperate junkies that may try their luck with him.
There was an obvious distinction between those looking to buy, and those looking to sell. The peddlers were hardly subtle where they lingered, to the side of the street, murmuring the various names of their product to those that would pause by them. Some would stop, exchange gold for small parcels of cloth, or powders in tiny jars, and some would continue on, only to pause by the next, leaning close to exhange murmured questions and haggle over prices.
"Euphoria?" He grunted in question to one such, a shabby middle-aged man leaning against a dilapidated wood wall. The peddler shrugged, and glanced down the street, jerking his chin towards an even darker bend of alleyways. "Heard some girl mentioned it down that way." He croaked, his eyes shifting around the alley, never once settling on Duncan. Duncan eyed him for a moment longer, wondering for a trill if it would be worth his while to ask after the man own product before he moved on. Ultimately he decided against it, thinking it better to stick with what he knew, and turned, slinking away in the direction the man had gestured, pausing to ask after the drug here and there.