"Dunno where you're lookin', sweet thing, but you ain't gettin' none a'this," Barry scoffs quietly at the sight of your eyes lingering on the weed he and Rafe are handling. It's incredibly unfair for them to be so accustomed to weed when you haven't even touched any in your life, that they're reliant on it, but refuse to let you even have one hit of it. And they even handle it infront of you like it's not tempting.

A laugh escapes Rafe at the pout adorning your face, the way you fold your arms over your chest petulantly because they wouldn't let you. His head cocks to the side a little, like he's in thought, perhaps considering letting you have a little. Barry sees this, and doubles down a little on you, "Tch, doll, you know y'aint supposed to be doin' none of this shit," they want to keep you clean, untainted by drugs and all the shit that comes with doing them.

Hypocritical, they know, but they also know best, don't they? Having dealt drugs and dealt with drugs before, they're the most knowledgeable.

"Awh, babe, don't go poutin' like that, c'mere," he wipes his hands on a rag before he gestures you over, cradling your thigh as you sat yourself down in his lap. He squeezes gently, eyes lifting up to yours. Finding that frown of yours just adorable, he coos, "Better put them eyes somewhere else," as he grips your chin and pats your cheek patronisingly.

He and Barry share a look, a silent communication, and they both laugh. Rafe lets you sit in his lap whilst he helps Barry with the baggies, but it only serves to make you more inclined to want to try the substance. "We can't have you gettin' hooked on this stuff, can we, baby?" Barry glances up at you, voice gentle but still firm, as Rafe nods in agreement, head against your shoulder.