He swallows the pills with his eyes half on the bottle in his hand, half on his best friend - slash - somethin' else entirely. They take the edge off; it's why he hates them and why he has to take them because part of him’s just as scared as they are.

“No more hospitals,” Face promised, holding his hand after the last escape. “Not if I can help it.”

Three more doses in the bottle, then they’re back to playing roulette again if they can't get more before they have to skip town.

But they’re together. It’s what counts.