Near blinding pain smashed into him when his shaky hand dropped the searing metal spoon onto his bare leg. Panic then set in as he realized the precious hit that was heating up, dissolving inside of it was spilling all over his carpet and he swore trying to grab the spoon once again, trying to save what he could of it but it was too late.
His escape had already become liquid and was now in his carpet and he growled throwing the silver object across the room and it echoed off the wall with a dull, 'thud' as he glared at it.
It was the last bit he'd kept in his small personal case, and now he'd have to venture the streets to find more. Each moment growing more and more agitated and angry.
Having just got back from a mission it was the last thing on his mind that he wanted to be doing. He had just wanted to take his hit and hit the hay. Relax and fade into blackness and enjoy the /silence/ before he had to awaken in the morning.
So now he closed the medium wooden box, placing the lock on it and sliding it under his bed he stood up and began to haul his clothes on, shirt, pants, jacket. He pulled the /red hood/ up and over his head and hid under it as he left his room, walking down the stairs and leaving his apartment to venture out into the night to find his peace.