Addicted
Y'know, I've found that I dislike using proper names while writing these. Hopefully you can tell who I'm talking about. This next chapter is Graverobber, right before Zydrate Anatomy.
Chapter 2: Drug Market
Graverobber
The kid's hand broke away from his as he turned, and her momentum carried her a few steps farther than him. She almost ran into the bosom of one of his clients, which made him bite back a laugh. What was the woman's name? To be honest, he couldn't remember. Her face was unfamiliar to him; most of his customers' were. Necks were familiar, and thighs, and the insides of forearms—a few of the places Zydrate could be injected. Faces were less important.
His eyes turned to the poster, appropriately emblazoned with a death's-head—"Zydrate Addicts Support Meeting," it said. What a crock. A momentary regret filled him, soon enveloped by his customary cool cynicism. It was sad, yes, but that was life. What was the saying? "Life sucks and then you die"? He'd always thought there was a certain inelegant poignancy to that. It was the truth.
He shook himself out of his reverie and stood to face the Zydrate-starved throng with a sigh. "Drug market," he reflected bitterly. "Sometimes I wonder why I ever got in."