Devon held the joint just the way he told her to. She was still a bit skeptical, to be honest, but she supposed if she did it this once, it wouldn't mean anything. There weren't many people around to observe this, anyway, so she figured she was safe in that regard. Teddy certainly didn't look more attractive or interesting or intelligent while sucking away at the joint, like he might have if he'd been casually puffing away at a cigarette, but he didn't look any stupider, either. Well, it was her birthday – and his birthday, too – so if he wanted her to try smoking then she was going to do it. There was no use being a killjoy at her own birthday party. Besides, she wasn't sure they had much else to do besides choke on vodka and stare at one another, so engaging in another activity seemed like a good idea. Really, if she knew Teddy enjoyed sitting around and coughing so much, she would have invited him up to the hospital wing while she'd had pneumonia. That would have been a real hoot.

The first try was a bit jarring – her lungs weren't prepared for smoke to come pouring in, and suddenly she felt as though she was choking and dying. She coughed, and tried to catch her breath, and dropped the joint without even realizing it. She was pretty sure her life was flashing in front of her eyes, only her life looked like a far wall in the astronomy tower. She had a desperate, automatic urge to get that smoke out of her lungs, and now. Her eyes were tearing up and her heart had sped up from suddenly feeling as though she was going to die and, frankly, she wasn't so impressed with smoking pot so far. He'd sort of warned her – but she didn't think all of the warning in the world could have prepared her for that.

“Are you trying to kill me?” she asked once she'd gotten her bearings, her voice hoarse. She cleared her throat and took a few good breaths through her nose, trying to come back from her shocking near-death experience. She'd sounded a little snappish, but she wasn't angry with Teddy – she was angry with herself for being awful at smoking. She stood up and walked toward a window that was open to the air, hoping to rid herself of that loathsome smoke completely – though really she walked away because she was sort of embarrassed, and there was no good way to cover up an episode like that without resorting to obliviation - and she was no expert when it came to memory charms. All she wanted was a drink of water – or a drink of anything other than vodka. In her mind, this had all seemed like it would be a lot more fun. Maybe they should have invited more people... or waited until somebody could buy them something that didn't feel as though it was eroding a layer of her esophagus every time she took a swallow.