[ Both Jesse's hands come up to push through his hair, head falling back with his eyes shut like he's basking in the high. ]

Ah, shit, man. This shit is the bomb, yo. Feels like I'm just gonna... Take off or something. Shoot out into space. Become a space pirate. Fight some space ninjas or something. Forget about all this shit. Fuck this place, man. Fuck the ship. Fuck everything.

[ He doesn't need to say what "everything" is. The timeslip. The monsters that are now congealed in his nightmares probably for months to come. How scared he is. Fuck all of it. He's still riding the initial rush of those first two bumps; everything that babbles out of his mouth is stated with conviction. Relieved, elated conviction even despite everything, because the coke has made him feel like the weight of it all has lifted off his shoulders. Maybe he could just keep getting high, and higher, and higher, and never return. He wants to hold onto this feeling forever.

Jesse drops his hands from his hair and faces Ronan, hungry for another bump. Just one more, he tells himself, and then maybe just one more after that. That's the thing with cocaine: you feel like a new guy when you snort a line of blow. Except that new guy wants to snort a line, too. ]