"Ah, I recognise that one. He's fond of the poppy."

Part of the wares Wen Kexing must negotiate for on a daily basis. He's not been quick to try it himself, his vices lend themselves elsewhere, but there's very little judgement in his voice. It's not the first time he's come across it, he doubts it will be the last. And if other people want to obliterate their minds that's on them. He watches as a host of men greet Livius, jovial backslaps all round, his expression bored looking.

"We've spoken, once or twice. The girl's are quick to fool him when he comes in, he leaves not remembering much. I could absolutely introduce you." From his sleeves he produces a thin, well-wrapped pouch, clearly some kind of contraband. "I could also give you this. A gift, for your new friend."

It's leverage either way, his kindness now.