[ with one of his hands freed up, eddie goes about fishing the second and final joint out of the stolen evidence bag and pinching it between his lips. he lets the bag fall somewhere in the space between his knees (and makes a mental note to take it with him later, if only so he doesn't end up pissing off the wraith), tugs a match out of the matchbook he brought, and strikes it across the little strip of powdered glass on the back. the match hisses to life, and eddie tilts his head a little to look at julie out of the corner of his eye as he touches the small flame to the end of the paper and lights his own joint.

shaking the match out, eddie pinches the spliff loosely between his fingers and inhales, the corners of his mouth quirked a little like he maybe wants to smile. the deadpan delivery is amusing to him. he makes a small sound of interest in the back of his throat, then tips his head back a bit so he can exhale toward the ceiling. look at that, he's courteous, too. ]

Yeah? [ he looks back at julie again, wetting his bottom lip and resting his hand on his peaked knee. eddie lifts his eyebrows a fraction. ] Drew out that little - square grid thing in the womb and picked the best one?

[ eddie drops the dead match down with the plastic bag, absently scratching at the small patch of skin on his knee with his thumb, exposed through the rip in his jeans. ]

I don't remember what that shit was called. From - biology or whatever. You know. [ he lifts his hand off his knee, draws a lazy 4-squared grid in the air in the space between them before dropping his hand again. explaining it beyond that is just gonna kill the joke, and the joke isn't even that funny.

eddie nods toward julie's headphones. ] What were you listening to? Sounded - angry.