It was the best idea, in Willy's opinion. He needed to shut it all off, too. He had questions. He had worries. He...felt like an asshole because he was worried about the tour. He was fearful for Nyx, of course, and that only made him feel selfish and shitty.

"Stay there," he said, flinging his hand vaguely at the bed before walking into the closet and mostly closing the door.

So now Nyx knew there were drugs in the house. He didn't need to know exactly where.

Emerging after a moment, Willy held his stash box- an old plastic lunch box that had once had a sticker of a cartoon, but was now covered in venue logos, coffee stands, and band stickers. Snapping it open was a familiar sound. Comforting, almost.

Inside, he had an assortment of pills, baggies, and a leather shaving kit that held his rig.

"Candy shop is open for business," he offered.