Batterychicken had never shied away from drug use. It was more the unknown that scared others away from the substances, he thought. Before ever trying them, he had educated himself on their effects and safe dosages. It meant that he was able to enjoy the high without suffering from addiction. At least, he had convinced himself that. Others could interpret his regular drug use as dependancy, and although that wasn’t as terrible as full addiction, it was one of the only methods he used to cope with the world. It was all down to interpretation.
So far, this week had been pretty shitty. The tension between him and Breakout was at a breaking point, and he was still simmering with anger. That evening, Batterychicken had actually looked forward to pulling the leaves off the coca plant that he had growing in his room, with noticeable force. Technically, he should be saving it all for selling for the business, but the lieutenant didn't really care. He regularly stole from the plants that he was growing, as hell, he wasn't about to pay for anything. Putting himself first came naturally, sometimes. Now located in the deserted kitchen, he set up his appliances on the countertop to start brewing.
There was anger and frustration embedded in every move that he made, as he almost slammed his teapot onto the counter - drowning the leaves with hot water from a flask of boiling water he had. Chewing on a coca leaf as he waited for the leaves to steep, he’d anticipate the hit, almost craving it. Swiping a tongue over his jaw, little pieces of the leaf sticking to the sides of his mouth, he stared at the steaming pot with longing and hunger. Who needed a lover, when you had cocaine? Batterychicken mused to himself, tapping his paw impatiently. They made your heart race just the same.