John tilted his head to one side, eyeing the Horseman speculatively. He hadn't been too happy about coming out here in the first place, and discovering one of these Apocalyptic agents had been operating openly in his town (and in fact, almost under his nose) didn't make him any happier. Still, he reckoned for what he was after, he wouldn't find a more direct source, and everybody he'd talked to had said the stuff the kid sold was pure and potent. Made sense, he supposed.

"Heard there was a bloke dealing down this way who skinned one hell of a good spliff, for a reasonable price," he said, smiling a bit sourly. Christ, he hated this. Not that he gave a rat's arse about the moral, legal or medical ramifications; it just disgusted him that his own anxiety had got the better of him to the point that he felt a need to be here.