Between Cantile and Sharkswell
"You don't say," he drawled. Upright—yes, he had gathered that impression. What did that make him then? Lying on the ground somewhere, maybe. Yeah, that sounded just about right. A ditch or a gutter. Appropriate. A glorious gutter, though. No—one made so, by his being there.
"Gior does sound more exciting than Brunnhold at least," Charlie allowed when she had finished. Most things sounded more exciting than Brunnhold. Charlie had managed to pass the time well enough. For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder if he would have enjoyed Gior. Or any study abroad, really. Then he squashed the thought down as irrelevant; his grades didn't exactly allow it. Besides, he had his work already, and he was happy with it. When he had any.
Chrysanthe reached out, passing the rolled-up bit of paper and whatever was inside of it to Baz. To Charlie's surprise Baz took it without any hesitation at all, and this time he didn't cough. Surprise, and a little bit of disappointment. It had been funny. But that boded well for the evening, at least. Maybe they could be tricked into having fun after all.
Charlie took the joint back, with a deliberate brush of his fingers, just to see what would happen. He wasn't really interested, although wasn't not interested. Just seemed fun to test out, see how Baz's opinion may or may not have shifted. He cackled on his next exhale, holding it lazily back out to Chrysanthe. Eyebrows raised; if she didn't take it, and if Baz didn't, well. That was fine. He hadn't gotten it to share to begin with.
"You can ask," Charlie said, turning to look at Baz where he leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, "but I'm afraid I simply shan't tell you. It would spoil the surprise, you see." He watched the smoke curl up into the damp Bethas air and catch the light from a dirty streetlamp, dingy blue phosphor. In a moment they'd start off again, deeper into Sharkswell proper. Not too much longer now and they'd be there.