Pax searches the faces of the revelers as we pass them. “Most of these fuckers are rolling.” “And? You gonna narc on them?” Wren prods. Pax growls, his lip curling upward—an expression that’s preluded a number of violent disagreements between our group members in the past. At least he isn’t aiming it at me this time. “Screw you, man. I’m just wondering where the fuck they got the Molly from.”
