look. aw hell. if you wanna stick your head in the sand about it I ain't gonna stop you. I think you're overestimatin how hard it I'd to get your hands on good grass round here man. I've been. hearin things. yknow. bout curlys family n all. I don't wanna spill nothin that ain't my buisness. but. ends don't meet as easily as they used to. n everyone that gets into dealin starts for a reason man. ya don't wanna believe me? I ain't gonna twist your arm. ask him yourself man.
Pony reads the letter quickly, before shoving the paper in his pocket. A hand runs through his hair as he debates what to do.
"Curly?" He puts his hand on his sleeping friend's shoulder, shaking him lightly. "I gotta ask you a question."
"Mmnnnegh," He replies groggily, and bats Pony's hand away from him. "Get off, man,"
"It's important, c'mon," He keeps shaking him, this time putting a bit more force in.
"Jesus, alright, alright--" Curly pushes himself up from lying down. He rubs his eyes, then opens them--only to be attacked by the light bursting into the room from all angles. He covers his eyes with his arm. "Fuck, it's bright in here! Are you trynna make me go blind, or somethin'?!"
Pony looks around the room. "It ain't even that bright, Curly. 'S just the light and window,"
"Well, it's bright as hell. Close a blind or somethin',"
He rolls his eyes at the request, but pushes himself up from the bed to do so. "I got somethin' I need to talk to you about,"
There's a pause from Curly. He lowers his arm to peak at Pony. "Why'd'ya sound so serious?"
"Are you dealin'?" He says, all too fast. He clears his throat. "Drugs, I mean. Like, weed,"
A silence takes over the room, and the two just sit in it. It takes a moment before Pony meets Curly's confused look.
He takes his look as one of denial, since-- he wouldn't be confused if he was actually selling them, right? "Oh, gee-- Sorry, just, someone brought it up, 'nd I told them that you wouldn't, sorry for even believin' you might--"
"Nah, Pone, he was right."
Pony blinks a few times, then shakes his head. "Curly, you can't--"
"Money's been tight, man. My momma's been workin', but three kids, Pone-- it ain't enough,"
"You're gonna get yourself back in the slammer,"
"Ain't no one gonna find out."
"Well, clearly someone found out--"
"No one important's gonna find out."
"They ain't gonna treat you like a kid much longer, Curly, you can't keep doin' crap like this,"
"Jesus, Pone, you sound like Darry,"
"I do not sound like Darry, I'm just worried!"
"I think I've heard him say that exact thing to you before."
"Will you stop it?" His fingers run through his own hair, eventually twirling themself around a strand and tugging absentmindedly. "I just," He starts, stammering over himself. "I just, I, you--" A deep breath. "Just be safe."
"I know you are." He sighs, sitting back down beside him.
They sit together in a quietness that's much less uncomfortable than before, and the letter in Pony's pocket is left unanswered.
