"Is it, though?" she replies, and she has every intention of it sounding teasing in response, but it comes out a little less so, to the point where she scoffs at the truthfulness behind the rhetorical question. She's wearing the joint down to next to nothing, but it doesn't stop her from drawing from it again, one last time, before she's down to pinching the remainders between her fingertips. It's quality shit, Murray-grade, and she'll be damned if she's going to waste a single ounce of it, but what it's supposed to be doing a good job of doing isn't working at all. It's failing spectacularly, matter of fact, and she flicks the remnant away, down into the water, where it floats for a split second and then sinks.

It's easier for her to talk about him. It's always simpler to bring up the topic of someone who isn't her, and she latches onto it eagerly, swiveling to face him, smiling slowly as he provides a little more detail. "You mean they never suckered you into playing Barbies with them? Not even once?" she prompts, her grin looser now. If the weed gives her nothing else, it gives her that, at least.