[ His pace skips one, two beats at that suggestion. And he hates that it does.

For Silco, it must be terribly obvious that Gen is tempted. Even if he hurries to avert his gaze, there was a very notable moment when his eyes went wide with a sickly blend of surprise and longing, his face a touch flushed as a single breath escaping quick and shaky past parted lips, before he hurriedly looked away.

'Drugs are dangerous,' he vaguely remembers his father telling him once. Drugs aren't like the casual trade of violence and 'protection' and money; drugs are different. They're not a territory he should treat lightly in. He knows that. But still ... ]

... you're really just a one-trick pony, aren't you, old man.

[ At least Gen has the minimum self control it takes to change the subject instead of immediately buckling. Even as a bead of cold sweat slides down his temple, he shoots Silco a confrontational stare first, as if hoping to prod at the other's sore spot. (He tries not to think about how badly his hand is trembling, hungering for even a taste of that euphoric sensation Silco had granted him before. A reprieve from how badly everything hurts.) ]

Is that really the only thing you can do? Can't even offer some other meds?