On the couch sprawled about half a dozen people, three of whom had their eyes closed, and seemed completely, blissfully unaware of their surroundings. Of the other three, one was twitching nervously, eyes darting around the room, and the other two were talking in a low voice.
Ember sat down on the couch, smiling (with her eyes open) at the three conscious people. "Hey," she said, her voice loud, so that she could be heard over the deafening roar of the music.
The twitching girl glared at Ember, and inched away from her on the couch. The other two, a boy with dark blue hair and one with a very tall auburn mohawk, spared her a short glance. "What do you want, Cherrytree?" the blue-haired boy asked.
"Just a little of whatever you're selling tonight, Dune," Ember replied cheerfully.
"What makes you think I'm selling anything?" Dune asked guardedly. Ember giggled.
"Oh, come off your high horse!" she told Dune, hitting him teasingly on the shoulder. He didn't seem to notice. "Just give me some of the stuff!" Ember went on.
Dune sized Ember up with his eyes - she tried to look worthy - and nodded slowly. He jerked his head at his mohawked friend, and the other boy, rising from the couch, led the twitching girl away with a gentle hand.
"Okay, Cherrytree," Dune said, seeming to relax against the couch - or, rather, against one unconscious inhabitant of the couch. "I can give you some junk... but it's gonna cost you."
Ember nodded, her hand going into her pocket. "I expected that," she said, and pulled out her wallet. "How much, exactly...?"
Dune's eyebrows rose appreciatively at the bills stuffed into the bright pink leather. "Say... two hundred bays?"
If he expected a reaction at the hideously expensive cost of the drug, Dune was sadly disappointed - Ember made no protest, merely nodded silently and handed over four fifty-bay notes.
Dune tucked the notes into the back pocket of his own jeans, and slid from between the cushions of the couch a latex balloon. "You know how to inject it?" he asked, holding the balloon in his hand.
Ember's eyes were on what she had paid for. "Yeah, yeah, I know," she said breezily, reaching for the drug, but Dune held it away from her.
"And how much to put in the syringe for one dose?" he added sternly, sounding for all the world like Ember's father.
"You sound like daddy," she giggled, reaching again. "Come on, give it here!"
Dune frowned. "You don't know, do you..." He sighed. "My job just gets harder and harder. But out of the goodness of my heart..." He stood up. "Follow me."
Ember obeyed, following Dune through the dancing throng, out of the night club and into the dark parking lot. The area was lit only by a few guttering street-lights, and Ember looked around warily as Dune leaned into a maroon convertible - most likely his own - and removed a large bag from the front seat. From this bag, he removed a tarnished spoon, a light yellow cigarette lighter, and a hypodermic needle.
Ember watched impatiently as the blue-haired young man prepared the drug, dissolving the white powder in the spoon over the cigarette lighter, and filled the syringe with the resulting fluid.
"Go ahead," he said finally, passing over the needle. "Knock yourself out."
Ember took the syringe eagerly, and was about to press it into her arm when Dune grabbed her hand and twisted the needle out of it.
"You idiot!" he hissed at her. "What the hell-- you've never done this before, have you?"
Ember shook her head. "Not exactly," she admitted. "I mean, I smoked pot once. I'm not, like, completely new to drugs..."
Dune rolled his eyes heavenward. "What is my life coming to?" he asked the overcast sky. Looking back at Ember, he said, "You have to put it in a vein, darling. Not just poke it into your skin any which-way. Look... gimme your hairband."
Ember, frowning, removed the rubber band from her ponytail, and, shaking out her loose blonde hair, handed the band to Dune.
"Gimme your arm," Dune directed her, and Ember obeyed, holding out her left arm. Dune stretched the rubber band around her wrist, sliding it up, over her elbow, until it rested tightly around her upper arm.
"That's kinda tight, you know," Ember said, watching Dune's actions. "It, um, hurts a little..."
"It has to be tight," Dune replied shortly, and without another word injected the hypodermic needle into Ember's arm. Ember yelped, eyes wide with fascination and nervousness, staring at the syringe.
Dune removed the syringe once the contents had been emptied into Ember's bloodstream. "There you go," he said, and returned needle, spoon, and cigarette lighter to his bag. He also put the balloon of heroin that was rightfully Ember's into the bag, but the Eterien girl didn't notice.
"How long's it take?" she asked eagerly.
"It won't be long," Dune replied shortly. Having finished packing away his stuff, he nodded a quick good-bye to Ember, and walked back into the club. Ember watched him leave, and sat down on the black-dusted asphalt, leaned up against the convertible, waiting for the drug to take effect.
She didn't have to wait long. In a few minutes, which seemed like ages to the impatiently hyperactive girl, she could feel... something, like a cool wave slowly moving through her body. "So this is what it's like to be high," Ember said out loud, putting her head back against the maroon metal and closing her eyes. She felt slow, drained, like someone or something had come along and sucked all the energy out of her.
Calm was a word seldom used to describe the young Eterien, but that was how she was feeling - lethargic, sleepy, like the world didn't matter...
Ember drew in a long, yet shallow breath, trying to fill her deflated lungs, and slumped against the convertible. Sliding down to an ungainly position on the pavement, Ember closed her eyes and let everything go...