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Withdraw was a terrible thing. So were hangovers, but sunglasses and aspirin worked well enough with that. Sid's headache had subsided to tolerable levels by the time he decided to walk down to the lake, but he kept the sunglasses on anyway. Might as well, seeing as he doubted he'd still have a nose for much longer.

He moved at a slow, shockingly reasonable pace, the mostly full carton of cigarettes tucked under his arm. One pack was still in his duplex, though he wasn't exactly sure why. He'd tried smoking since his changed, but it didn't work well. He'd tried letting a cigarette burn and taking it in like carinogenic incense, but it just wasn't the same. Now as the hangover was passing the nicotine withdraw was just kicking in. With one hand on his cane and the other on the carton he couldn't easily see if they'd started shaking yet.

But it was okay. He'd quit cold turkey with worse things than cigarettes. That made him remember the marijuana that had yet to be delivered. His dismay over that was short lived. He still knew a few useful recipes, so maybe it would all work out in the end.

In the meantime, he had a delivery to make.

Sid approached the rock slowly, more for the sake of his leg than to keep from startling Billy. The softer ground meant he had to be a little more careful in any case. The slow approach gave him a little more time to check out his condition. He couldn't slip his sunglasses up without risking hitting himself with the cigarettes, but once he stepped up to the rock he was fairly certain he looked thinner.

"Hey," he said. It was easier to hold up the carton than to explain why he'd come. In the same gesture he remembered the issue with the collar. "Don' geh too ess- exci-ted, nkay?"

"M' a man of mah word," Sid said. He sat down, putting a safe and respectable distance between himself and the tentacles, and slid the carton over. After digging around in his pocket, he added a lighter on top of it. "Juss try an' pathe... pace yuhsef."

Sid nodded and rose to retrieve the matches. It took a little effort to keep his curiosity to getting the better of him, even if it was doubtful there'd be much of real interest in the backpack. Once he found the matches he very slowly, very carefully got back to his feet. Pain lanced through his knee, chiding him for not just picking the damn thing up. That's what he got for trying to appear capable. When Sid returned to the rock he sat back down with a sigh. He held the matches out, deciding that there was no way in hell he was moving for the next several minutes.

Secondhand smoke had never been more appealing. It took a lot of effort not to take a very deep, obviously desperate breath of it. Sid pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose instead, aware that he had to look even more absurd with them.

"How ya bee'n?" he asked.

Sid uttered his own terse laugh and shook his head. "All t'ings con-sidahed ah mean."

Sid shrugged and took to picking at the frayed knee of his jeans again. "Bou' the thame... same." He gestured vaguely at his mouth. "Ssstill workin' ahn thih." He didn't have to say what sounds were still giving him trouble.

"Ah kinna figured," Sid said darkly. He watched Billy smoke enviously, but he wasn't quite to the point that he'd make another attempt at trying it for himself... and definitely not with spectators. He settled for breathing in what smoke he could as he stared at the lake.

"Hey," he said. "Wha' happens in the end... when yuh a fish? Can ya... y'know- breathe aih?"