no it's a crayon

Two sets of eyes stare back at him, and Wake isn't entirely sure what to make of that. Ah, he's too high to care much. Settling in beside the stranger, his tail thumps for a moment against the ground. Lounging, taking in the scent of alcohol on their breath. Perhaps that's the most familiar part of this environment, huh?

Their words bring about a snicker, a grin. "Dunno how anyone lives cooped up, we're not chickens." He's comfortable, maybe too comfortable. Letting his hair down, so to speak, comes pretty easily.

His companion's expression shifts for a moment, hope-- ah, an empty bottle wouldn't do. Wake knows better than to offer someone laudanum, knowing the risks and dangers. Still, he's got something almost as good, less dangerous, tucked away with it.

"No wine, but I'll share my spliff if you share your name." A rakish, confident smile plays on his face as he draws the sizeable hand rolled cigarette from the pouch around his neck. A mixture of tobacco and cannabis, Wake wouldn't be caught out without it. Shhh, he doesn't have a problem or anything.

"Wake"