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Summary
“Here,” Duff sits up, shrugs his jacket off, digs through the pockets until he finds a little vial filled with coke. He takes a hit, lets Izzy sniff some, hands it over to Slash. “You need to loosen up.”
“We’ll make sure of that before the night’s over,” Izzy mutters, and Slash looks at him, slow, unblinking, cheeks getting warm.