If Prudence and Mick hadn’t declared an unwritten treaty to never snitch, Mick would’ve guided Liam towards the room that had could’ve acted as a pharmacy. “Well, aren’t you a responsible adult?” A little stoned himself, he was tempted to pull the ‘I learned it from you, Dad’ joke, but Liam didn’t seem to be in that sort of mood. “Well, because it’s abuse, first of all. Secondly… I mean, look, this is all relatively harmless! And I got it from most of your roadies and crew.” He was going off to college soon, why the hell did it even matter? “I don’t know what you want me to say. Like, this,” he gestured at the array of drugs, “is our life. It’s what we’ve known forever. And hey, I’ve seen the shi—- stuff they pass around backstage… what I’ve got is tame! I’m just, y’know, fulfilling the family legacy.”
“Nice. That’s real nice, Mick. Y’know when my dad caught me with a cigarette he had me smoke the whole pack. What do ya think will happen when I make you swallow all of this tame shit,” he tapped the top of a pill canisters and then, his frustration growing, threw the entire bottle at his son. “Does your sister see you pullin’ this? That’s the brother you’re gonna be?” Naturally Liam knew he had a hand in this. He’d always been in and out of rehabs and relapses. It was difficult for him to face the disappointment he felt in himself, so he placed that square on Mick. “You look like shit, you know.” Looked like Liam. “Thought maybe you’d learn from me, my mistakes.”