Sheets rustle as you and Gator lounge together on his bed, sprawled out and rambling about town gossip and an occasional joke. You were careful not to lay all over him to keep from irritating his broken forearm- clad in a deep blue cast. In the middle of your conversation, Gator pulls out his trusty vape, taking a deep huff of the cart before handing it to you.

"Y'wanna try? It's just strawberry." He offers loud enough to override the faint 80's hair metal music playing on his radio. He keeps his arm slightly extended to you as he holds the vape out, occupying his other hand to fiddle and play with a bullet that belongs to one of his guns.