Joe wasn't precisely what one could call dependable but he was predictable in that if a person could find him, a person could also find quality pot.
Ray didn't really have a pot habit, but there were times when a little mellow was called for and while doing a conglomerate tour like Warped, those times were almost sure to come around.
It took him a while to find Joe because, for whatever reason, he was lying under Relient K's bus--Ray had to wonder if maybe he'd gotten lost--but once he crawled underneath with him and asked, "Have any extra?" Joe just passed over some already-rolled weed and a lighter.
Ray took a hit and waited patiently for it to kick in, for some of the tension that sometimes was the definition of living with four other guys--no matter how much Ray loved every single one of them--in a space the size of Ray's entry hall.
Joe asked, "You okay, man?"
"Fine," Ray said, and he really was on his way there.
Joe laughed a little, knowingly. It didn't bother Ray as much as it might have the moment before.
"Patrick and Pete are fighting again," Joe told him. He sounded unconcerned in a removed way. Like the way he probably had been concerned before smoking the overwhelming majority of his joint.
"That's been happening a lot lately," Ray observed.
"Pete's worried about Patrick because his girlfriend's kinda... We don't really trust her. But Pete's shit at just being all, 'I worry, man,' so instead it's, 'You could do so much better,' or 'Let me set you up with this girl I know'."
"Gerard's got writers block and he doesn't drink anymore."
Ray laughed, an elongated laugh, the kind he could only manage when on his way to completely baked. "Generous of you."
"Mm," Joe said.
"Pete keeps finding me under all the non-religious band buses."
Ray nodded. "Smart move."
"Pot makes you smart."
Ray laughed. "I get some of my best ideas while high."
"That's what I'm saying," Joe said, and breathed out the last of his joint. Ray watched the smoke curl in the air.