"No, you're right," Chris replies, because getting someone to move it'll turn into a problem for someone else. It's probably fuckin' heavy, and the graveyard's like... miles or something, almost on the other side of the island.

The joint feels awkward in his hands, so he lights it, mostly for something to do with his hands. He inhales, breath shaky before he says anything else, the joint hanging from his lips.

"It'll stay. I just... I dunno. I dont' fuckin' know, Olive."