Pollution shrugged. "A high price doesn't make sense to me. I'm not here to make money," he muttered, brushing greasy hair out of his eyes. "What do you want? What do you want to feel? That's more important than the drug, you know." Pollution suddenly looked away from John to watch a woman enter a car with a man. "He convinces her not to wear a condom and pays her more for it," Pollution whispered. "She'll die in two years. Complications due to AIDS..." He turned his glazed eyes back to John.