[His eyes become suggestive slits, sliding a wayward glance towards the goblin. That was all he was gonna say on the matter unless prompted further. He was sure Stan could fill in the blanks himself if he really wanted to. He takes the bong gratefully, picking up the lighter that Stan had neglected to use and flicking it a few times to get a flame lit.]
Ah, ah, ah...!
[Just by holding the lighter, he could feel the singe of his skin through the plastic. A normal human wouldn't even bat an eye or feel any degree of discomfort, but being so close to something producing fire was enough to cause Gamzee's fingers and palm to sting with the pain of an oncoming burn. He always had to light his bowl lightning-quick and toss away the lighter before he himself caught fire.]
No worries to be fuckin' had, my most wickedest of motherfuckers, soon as us gangstas get this crib all smoked up, my friendly plant goop be gettin' toked enough to be all less clingy than all what's it fuckin' is now...
[In other words, smoke weakened the effects of Gamzee's sap. Blow a few lungfuls of the stuff against an epoxied surface, and it should get loose enough to be able to tug free. Or, just smoke a bunch in a room and let the smoke-filled air do the work for you. He settled back, sucking the smoke from the bong until a nice cloud of smoke build up in the chamber. Pulling his head back, he slapped his palm over the mouthpiece and turned to Stan.]
Cough, cough... Ain't motherfuckin' nothin' to write... goddamn home on, that's for... cough, cough... motherfuckin' sure... heh heh...
[Leaning forward, he grabbed the top of the Ziploc from the coffee table and tossed it towards the man's lap before uncovering the top of the bong, pulling the bowl, and cashing in on the rest of his hit.]
Gotta... pull the fuckers out by the goddamn bulb... cough, cough...
[He held his arms out for Stan to gaze upon. Green and freckled with white like the rest of him, only they were absolutely covered in pock marks, purple scabs, and tiny, new buds. To harvest his weed, he had to literally uproot the leaves from his skin. It was a messy, painful affair, but he had all of the painkillers he could ever hope for.]
no subject
[His eyes become suggestive slits, sliding a wayward glance towards the goblin. That was all he was gonna say on the matter unless prompted further. He was sure Stan could fill in the blanks himself if he really wanted to. He takes the bong gratefully, picking up the lighter that Stan had neglected to use and flicking it a few times to get a flame lit.]
Ah, ah, ah...!
[Just by holding the lighter, he could feel the singe of his skin through the plastic. A normal human wouldn't even bat an eye or feel any degree of discomfort, but being so close to something producing fire was enough to cause Gamzee's fingers and palm to sting with the pain of an oncoming burn. He always had to light his bowl lightning-quick and toss away the lighter before he himself caught fire.]
No worries to be fuckin' had, my most wickedest of motherfuckers, soon as us gangstas get this crib all smoked up, my friendly plant goop be gettin' toked enough to be all less clingy than all what's it fuckin' is now...
[In other words, smoke weakened the effects of Gamzee's sap. Blow a few lungfuls of the stuff against an epoxied surface, and it should get loose enough to be able to tug free. Or, just smoke a bunch in a room and let the smoke-filled air do the work for you. He settled back, sucking the smoke from the bong until a nice cloud of smoke build up in the chamber. Pulling his head back, he slapped his palm over the mouthpiece and turned to Stan.]
Cough, cough... Ain't motherfuckin' nothin' to write... goddamn home on, that's for... cough, cough... motherfuckin' sure... heh heh...
[Leaning forward, he grabbed the top of the Ziploc from the coffee table and tossed it towards the man's lap before uncovering the top of the bong, pulling the bowl, and cashing in on the rest of his hit.]
Gotta... pull the fuckers out by the goddamn bulb... cough, cough...
[He held his arms out for Stan to gaze upon. Green and freckled with white like the rest of him, only they were absolutely covered in pock marks, purple scabs, and tiny, new buds. To harvest his weed, he had to literally uproot the leaves from his skin. It was a messy, painful affair, but he had all of the painkillers he could ever hope for.]