Jay stares up at the ceiling, silently contemplating the fact that he may have just talked a magic skeleton into trying drugs.

D.A.R.E. was right. Somebody give him a leather jacket and an alleyway.

"Might, yeah."

Horrible influence that he is, he's not really committing to it either. Not sure how well he'll take it, at this point. Given that the new meds don't mix well with alcohol, he's got his doubts.

"Not that the bullshit's ever really over."