"I wasn't sure I even wanted to set foot out there," Jag answered, distantly, then turned his head towards her as she settled beside him. As usual, he wanted to reach out to her, curl around her, feel her hand through his hair, the regular urge only bolstered by the pot.

"I don't like the Fae," he added, and held the joint out to her in offer. It had gone out, but he'd light it with a thought if she pulled on it.