Iggy nodded his head, acknowledging what he was being told, but not looking over at Bert in the slightest. A low raspy laugh came out of Bert like puffs of air, a shocking reaction. “You don’t like me now, Robert,” he interrupted, “but you will. Look at what I brought.” With his eyes still planted on Iggy, he slipped his hand into the pocket of his worn pullover jacket and pulled out a white plastic box the size of a palm. The small plastic box was clean and stood out against his brown tinged hand like a white speck against a black wall. With his two unkempt fingers, he clicked the box open.
Inside there were little fluid filled tubes with tiny needles at the end; a strange sort of prepared syringe that Iggy could have recognized without ever seeing them before. Bert picked one out and he
