tony smirked and raised an eyebrow up at him from her perch on the ground. “alright, abroham. i’ll give you half idiot. since you’re so offended and all.” as he spoke, she cracked a grin, nodding along while she refilled her own prescription bottle of adderall. no point in not being productive now that she’d dug out half her stash anyway, right? “who told you i sell crack? i don’t sell crack. i deal exclusively in high-end, quality product. crack is just fuckin’ … poor man’s cocaine. nah, son. anyway, i’m not trying to be superman. that guy is a little bitch. i’d be, like, tony stark. or batman.” the note of longing in pierre’s voice wasn’t entirely lost on her, and it struck a chord—an odd little wave of … not guilt, exactly, but something that tony wasn’t used to. she would fix him, if she could. but she had no idea how to do that. she had no idea how to do anything. “your hero standards are ridiculously high, man,” she said, because tony was never one to get sentimental, and she certainly wouldn’t be starting now. “just setting a poor li’l sis up to fail. i see how it is. sorry. i know i give off mad witchy vibes, but those are actually just misinterpreted bitchy vibes.” but she couldn’t look him in the eye now, lest she risk some kind of emotional vulnerability ( weakness ), and instead methodically rearranged the bags and the books before she sealed the trunk and tucked it away under her bed again. she wondered if her brother knew what all she really got up to—and what he might think if he did. “none taken, dude. unless you’re implying i’m some drugged up zombie, in which case, fuck off, i don’t even take downers. i only went blotto on tranqs once in my life, and it was a fuckin’ mistake because i stopped brushing my hair and ended up with, like, dreadlocks, and had to cut it all off.” her eyebrow raised again, eyes narrowed a little. “so one second you’re all rushing me about how you can’t miss a dose, and now you’re chomping at the bit to get a few days free without your damn drugs? what gives, pierre?”
he gave a slight chuckle at her use of 'abroham'. he was always one to appreciate a good pun. "did i say i was offended? am i that easy to read?" pierre questioned, half jokingly. he wasn't a good liar but he figured he at least had some ability to hide his emotions. probably not. he watched his sister for a minute, still highly intrigued by what she did. he couldn't help but think of his parents and how they probably wouldn't be so chill about this. not that he'd ever rat her out...he liked living. "heard it through the grape vine. guess i heard it wrong. sorry, forgot you were classy for a minute." classy drug dealers, the best kind. "well you already got the sarcastic kind of aloof vibes going on so they'd probably be a good fit for you. plus your name is already tony." he agreed. pierre watched tony carefully at her reaction to his comment, it was times like this in which he wished he was better at reading people, specifically tony. he knew she wasn't as cold as she liked to seem but he still couldn't figure out what she was thinking. "sorry." it was all he could think to say. "witchy, bitchy. easy mistake to make. i always just assumed you were both. you sure you haven't got a cauldron stuffed away in here somewhere?" he peered over all her belongings as if he were looking for one. he noted her inability to look him in the eye but tried not to think much of it. as she began rummaging around again he couldn't help but notice how organised she was, he was oddly proud of her. that was weird. "now i'm picturing you with dreadlocks -- but no, i wasn't implying you were a drugged up zombie. i hold you to a much higher standard." he spoke honestly, yet in a sarcastic tone before shutting down and going silent. he hadn't gone about this the right way. pierre ran his hand through his hair and sighed, "i just appreciate any little break i can get from them. it doesn't hurt exactly. i mean when was the last time i relapsed huh? it's been years. i'm sure i can manage."
