[ He’s surprised, honestly, that he’s managed to evade a black eye, but he’s not going to question it. To his credit, he does shut up. He watches silently for a moment as Billy works through his emotions, feeling awkward that he has to bear witness to it, but not judging.

Maybe it is better that Eddie found him first: a totally impartial party it no pre-conceived judgements. ]

Yeah, man. I mean, it sucks. No reason to make it sound better than it is.

[ It’s why he insists on bad news first, always. Get the worst of it over with, don’t soften the blow, but top things off with a little hope at the end. Max is hurt—terribly, from the sound of it, but she is very much alive. There’s a chance she can pull through, and that matters. It’s grim, but it’s not over, and he hopes Billy can recognize that as well.

Then Billy asks after weed, and Eddie grins. Now that he can help with. ]

Shit, dude, did you ever run into the right guy. If you’d just step into my office…

[ There is no office—obviously. The only move he makes is one large step backwards for the sake of dramatics. He reaches reaches into a pocket and, as if by magic, produces a little sachet containing three perfect joints, already rolled and ready for consumption. ]

A woman in the Free Cities puts it all together. I just do distribution in Solvunn, but uh...it’s good shit. Never heard any complaints, never had any complaints.

[ With a grin and a flourish, he holds the bag out to Billy—no games, no stipulations, no string attached. It’s an offer, plain and simple. Neither Eddie nor the weed can fix any of this, but they sure can’t hurt. ]

Tell you what—I’ll spot you this time. Call it a welcome gift, sympathy gift, free sample, whatever you prefer.