060. Drink.
The décor is sophisticated; chairs made from ebony and drapes of scarlet silk. A crackling fireplace mounted with gold and marble throws long shadows over room, but underneath it all, there is an air of decadence that lingers, like smoke. They are in one of the famed opium dens of London, and Cain sits, sprawling on a plush armchair, puffing on a pipe that is passed around the room. Riff barely makes out the blurred forms through the haze, and he moves closer, sitting next to his master.
In dim light, Cain's eyes are slightly narrowed; aware and sharp as he watches the men slowly become lost, pupils dilating and heads thrown back in ecstasy. Their limbs are flung astray, and they become motionless, frozen in odd angles like dark scarecrows.
He passes the pipe to Riff, who blanches.
"You must be joking."
"Don't inhale," Cain murmurs, words slurring together…Riff wonders if his master is intoxicated with something else.
But he still refuses, albeit politely, and Cain laughs, light and birdlike in his amusement. The sound is out of place in the dimly lit room, and as Cain stands up to examine the motionless bodies, Riff wonders absently why the scarecrows aren't working.
…Of course. He eyes the pipe that lies abandoned on the floor, and he smells something that reminds him of his past, of tonics and medicinal lessons that he still remembers vividly. Or at least, he thinks he can remember, and the smell of opium then invades his nostrils, making him feel light-headed and…
And as his vision becomes dark at the edges, he sees Cain standing next to the fireplace, a dull glow casting shadows over his face, his cheekbones. Without looking at Riff, he pulls a hip flask out, unstoppering the bottle and raising it to the pile of motionless bodies, which are beginning to look like corpses in the failing light.
"Addiction is a terrible thing," He begins, and Riff blinks and his head swims. Cain's gaze flickers back towards him for a second, and his expression grows conflicted, as if contemplating something, or perhaps deciding what to say. Then his features settle, and he smoothly raises his arm. "A toast to the dead," he says. But unable to fight off the darkness any longer, Riff closes his eyes and he does not see Cain drink.
end
