Page 54 of Finch

been prior to removing the bag. “They’re too small to be smudge sticks. At least, too small to

be any type that I’m familiar with.”

Hugh had never heard them referred to as “smudge sticks” before, but Finch was a fount of

new and exciting vocabulary from which Hugh was eager to imbibe.

“Do you think they’re small?” Hugh craned his neck to get a better look at the bag. He’d studied

it for a while before stuffing it in the box, but without a basis for comparison, he had no idea

what was standard and what was a disappointment. “I was told that they were of exceptional

size and quality. If they’re no good I’ll return them and demand a superior product. I’ll admit,

I’m not well versed in… well… herbal recreation. You are the superin master.”

“I—” Finch froze. Then, slowly, he turned his head to stare at Hugh, eyes as big as dinner

plates. “Is this marijuana?”

“It is!”

Finch jammed the window button on his door so hard, the damn thing nearly broke.

“Finch?” Hugh blinked, then caught on. “Oh, I get it. You’re wanting to put your present to use

immediately and you don’t want to hotbox the car. How considerate of you! I had no idea you

were such a fiend for the stuff.”

The window continued its slow descent. Finch was nearly bouncing in his seat with

excitement—or maybe pain. With as much force as he was putting on the button, the latter did

seem possible. Poor Finch’s fingertip was turning white from exertion. He must not have known

that North American car windows unrolled at a constant speed no matter the pressure put on

their buttons. It was sweet. Hugh would have to look into importing a car from England. He

hadn’t known that their window buttons functioned differently, but Finch was the expert, and it

did seem like there was some kind of disconnect going on. The expense would be worth it to

help Finch feel at home.

“I figured we would wait and sneak off to be naughty halfway through the party,” Hugh

explained while Finch and the bag of weed vibrated beside him. “But I can see the benefits of

smoking prior to arrival. I don’t suppose you have a lighter? It’s no matter. It just so happens I

was born prepared.” Hugh lifted his hand with a flourish and extended his index finger. A jet of

flame danced to life from its tip. Finch looked at the digit as if it were diseased. “Oh, Finch,

don’t worry—it’s quite sanitary. Now, how do you do this without a pipe? I know it’s possible.

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