Nothing to Do With This

[Nico Martell]

Nico stood amid the carnage and knew he couldn't look much guiltier if he were holding a smoking gun. The drugs had been tossed about in their owners' near panic to get the hell out of the room in a hurry, which meant that Nico was pretty sure that he had about a hundred dollars worth of product in his hair. He didn't want to think about that overmuch, just as he didn't want to think about the green stuff that was currently clinging to his shirt.

He'd just walked into the room. Okay, it technically had been a bit more than that. Apparently they were using him sort of like old miners apparently used canaries. If Nico ducked into the room, it meant there was a security staffer on the way. This had really made Nico want to just stick his head in and out, but he'd barely suppressed the urge.

Which meant that he'd actually warned the druggies, if on accident. It also meant that Nico was now standing there, covered in the evidence, and turning to look up at slightly taller security official.

Nico blinked, looked around, looked down, then looked up to meet the man's eyes.

"I had nothing to do with this."