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The cold air crept up beneath Rob's kilt like icy fingers of frozen-ness. He was beginning to regret his choice of costume, just a little bit. Yet here he was, following Asher a short distance outside the gym, away from the Halloween party and prying eyes and noses. The Hermes Chosen had made an offer, and he accepted. Cold weather be damned, he was gonna get high.

"Rob. Dionysus scum, remember?" He raised an eyebrow slightly at Asher's smile -- he wasn't that familiar with the guy apart from the pizza party and batting poor armadillo Brynn around in the swamp, but he couldn't recall ever seeing him smile. "Here's fine, I think. Yeah, we probably should have grabbed something on the way out, but we can take care of that later."

Digging around in the folds of his kilt, Rob produced a lighter; he always kept one on him just in case. He held it out to Asher with a lopsided grin. "Here you go, mate."

This had better be good s**t, Rob thought, his mind going back to Beth and Sylvia and even Mercy. Hot babes who were obviously flirting with him hardcore, and he skipped out on them to go smoke it up with Waldo. Accepting the joint, he put it to his lips and inhaled, holding the smoke in for a few beats before releasing it. An eyebrow went up; he didn't know where Asher got his weed, but this was prime stuff.

Handing it back to Asher, Rob shook his head. "You would probably get the lecture of your life. No, I think just us two is enough. I appreciate you sharing with me, though." He did, too -- he could already feel the effects.

"So," he started, figuring Asher wasn't the sort who did things without a reason, "what's on your mind?"

Rob saw Asher start at his question and figured the small man was stalling, probably trying to come up with some smartass response. That was fine with Rob. Asher could take all the time he wanted, as long as the joint held out. Reaching out to take the thing from Asher, he gave a wry grin, already feeling the effects of the herb.

"Oh, no, I really do appreciate it. And I get what you mean about the hair. A lot of people think the same thing." Taking a hit, he handed the joint back to Asher and folded his arms across his blue-painted chest, partially in an attempt to keep warm. He released the smoke and closed his eyes contentedly. Yeah, this was definitely some first-rate s**t.

"Luckily, it's all true. This just isn't my preferred vice. Something I think my liver wishes was otherwise."

"England." Rob relieved Asher of the joint and took another hit, the effects of the weed starting to show in the small smile that played across his lips. "Jolly old England, where it's cold and damp much of the time. One gets used to it growing up." He thumped his bare chest with his fist. "I am descended from the noble savages of Britain," he proclaimed, "who wore their kilts and woad proudly into the dark winter. In other words, screaming loonies. No wonder we drink the way we do -- it's all that keeps us warm."

Passing it back to Asher, he eyed the smaller man. "What about you, mate? I don't hear snark like yours out in San Francisco. Well, not often. An' you are one snarky little s**t, aren't you?" he grinned.

"I guess the same could be said about Dionysus." Rob shrugged and took one more hit, effectively killing the joint. Letting the smoke seep out on its own, he handed the dog end back to Asher to dispose of. "There's not many of us, at least not that I've met, but those I have are pretty non-huggy-kissy goodie goodie types."

Leaning against the wall to steady himself, he snorted a short laugh. "Maybe we're just too busy bein' drunk all the time." He thought about Ernst, who was the only Dionysus Chosen he'd really had any serious contact with, and that was back in the Alps. The image of the tall pink-haired man diving for him, using his shield to protect Rob from the monstrous giant Stymphalian bird, was seared into his memory. If it hadn't been for his Dionysus bro, he probably wouldn't be here.

Rob shuddered and shook the memories of that first mission out of his mind. "I never been to New York," he said finally, eyeing the smaller man. He liked Asher better without the snark, though the things that came out of his mouth were sometimes amusing. "Though I hear San Francisco is like a more chill New York. Lot o' Enn-Wye-Cee expats there for some reason."

Rob laughed. "Seriously, what the ********?" He folded his arms over his chest again to ward off the chill -- not like that was helping the draft beneath his kilt. His eyes followed Asher's glance back toward the door, and he shivered a little, imperceptibly. There was warmth in there, and booze. And hot people in fancy dress. And things to munch on. And he could see Asher was more than a bit cold himself.

"Look, mate, I donno about you, but me balls are trying to crawl back inside me body, it's so ********' cold. If it's all the same with you, I'm going to head back inside." Straightening, he scuffed one of his booted feet on the ground. "Thanks for sharin', right? We'll have to do it again sometime."