Finely prepared heroin?
Never.
It was always exquisite.
Renton called and rang him up another bill on the tab. He dripped the water onto the spoon as he held it over the candle, and was reminded of an old Irish proverb from back in his uni days.
"A man who supplies is a man of god amongst thirsty men."
The Swan shook his head as he slowly tapped the orange powder into the boiling spoonwater. Of course he was a god. But the skag boys weren't thirsty. They were ravaged. The skag boys made themselves constantly thirsty by choosing to drink the exquisite saltwater known as smack. As the Mother Superior drew up the black and red water for the Rents boy, he seemed to think it wasn't that wonderful to know that he was slowly killing people.
He presented the syringe to Rents who smiled a sick, pasty smile that was only reciprocated out of presentation. Even the Mother Superior didn't agree; but this was their choice. And it was unjust to simply stop supplying the skag if they asked for it. In the end, it was nice to sit in his dark room, and observe and count and tally off the many notes he had.
He agreed this proverb would remain true for all eternity, as long as there were always Mother Superiors, and always parched skag boys.
He would play God a little longer.