#hereherehere

Marlowe knows better than to be out this late, given the newly set rules and how they'd all been dropped down a level. He didn't have the same privilages as before, didn't have the right to run around after midnight, but here he was, hands shoved in his pocket and a blunt between his lips. He didn't give a fuck, not when he hadn't had E in almost 2 weeks and his head was fucking killing him. When he rounded the corner though and spotted a guard, swearing under his breath. At least the joint wasn't lit, so he shoved it into his pocket in hopes of whoever the fuck it wasn't hadn't seen him. Quietly, well as quietly as someone like Marlowe could be he took a step to the side, ducking down another hallway to hide himself from prying eyes.