You ain't drunk hardly none. [Gamzee points out, grinning lazily at Tavros.] Can't feed it to your teeth, motherfucker, and expect it to do anything!

But it's good. I mean, nice ... like all the things you worry about usually, you know? All that shit what takes up space in your pan and makes you feel all flat gray and sad inside, it just goes away for a little while. Like, there ain't nothing to be scared of, ever.

[The Slytherin pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and proceeds to light up, before offering the pack around.]