[Liara's shaky hands work messily at unlocking the window, day-light hours permitting it be open to promote well-being and sunshine or some other bullshit. She pulls it open, hers thankfully facing the rear end of the asylum, rather that the front grounds where everyone would be. Her hands pull the rather large joint out of her pocket, having, after nearly weeks of asking around, aquired something to tide her over after the bit of champagne relapse. It's not as if either thing mattered. Neither were going to get her fucked up like she needed, but it was better than nothing. She'd already stuffed a towel beneath the door and prepped herself with a bit of perfume to mask it in case anyone came knocking. Thom wouldn't be happy, but he didn't have to know that she'd gotten a second vice -- just for a moment.
She takes the lighter out, puffing the musky smoke into her mouth, sticking her head out the window and blowing it out to float away.]