Cocaine Kisses (Morphine Candy and Amphetamines) Pt. 1-

He was going late.

And, while his new Jaguar model purred beneath his demands and moved swiftly through the streets, he scowled frustratedly, the asphalt whining beneath the rubber material of the wheels, hitting it without mercy wiping away the water from the floor as it ran raggedly, towards it's destination, he put a cigarette to his lips, in order to contain his momentary desire for...

Another kind of cigarette.

Milo shook his head, and another scowl formed across his lips, while he inhaled the wonderful nicotine, that soothed his urges, his thin brows furrowing in slight concern. What if he had left already? Who could he get the mercancy from?

He needed to get back to his boss as suddenly as possible, and this unexpected delay was not something he would like.

While his boss was a patient man, he did not like to have his business interrupted by... personal issues. And the drug dealer understood perfectly.

And therefore, Milo was never late. Milo was efficient and quick witted, and, while his needs were particular and considered somewhat eccentric, noone ever complained about his talents and his ability as a business man.

Milo was a man of taste, and this was what made him so brilliant in his work. He sold the worst of the worst to the right people, and the best drugs to those who would have payed for it greatly. And he, of course, got a free sample, as a part of his... contract.

He also loved his job.

He got to satisfy his addiction in just the right dosis, he related to people whom he despised (and whom he knew he was going to ruin the lives of), got payed excellently, traveled, got an expensive car and beautiful women.

To Milo, life was good.

The sky opened above him in an impenetrable gray, reminding him of zinc, somehow. The sun was not more than a fading disk beneath the rain filled clouds, caressing the tips of each tall building that surrounded him.

His green eyes had gotten used to the lack of light in all his years in this place.

Although, he preferred New York than any other place in the world. Specially in winter.

The long haired man shook his head lazily, and pulled out his electronic agenda from his pocket, his eyes travelling from name to name, adress to adress, to finally find his destination, around a quite ugly looking, smelling corner.

He let the cigarette go, slipping from his fingers, a moment ago closed firmly around the filter, and he watched with a curious delight how the fire was consumed by the water on the street.

University City.

Milo didn't remember the place to be so unkept and filthy. The last time he got there, about two years ago, it was clean, and filled with light and laughing students, some reading under a tree, others having lunch on a bent, others feeding the doves...

He shrugged the memories off, and got out of his car, closing the door behind him with a loud 'thud'. Milo then Began to walk, with his bag of hachis under his arm, carefully wrapped into a larger silk fabric, his elegant black suit perfectly in place, not a single wrinkle in it.

He was just about to arrive to his current meeting, when something caught his eye. Someone.

A woman. A young woman, with unruly, green hair and equally green eyes (just like his'), laying on the floor pathetically, a neddle by her side, her small form convulsing under the shadows of a house's entrance, her skin coated with sweat, her clothes dirty and unkept.

Overdose, maybe?

He approached her, and when he was about to pick her up and carry her remains towards somewhere else, as if not for her to ruin his business here, he heard her, murmuring in a broken tone

"Help..."

Milo scowled.

This was not, apparently, his day.