Naga

You were the child of a Rasta. Your entire childhood was spent inhaling marijuana almost daily, but you never tried smoking it, although you did as a teenager. When you grew up, you joined the Perseus Forces. You had trouble making friends, but Naga began to show an interest in you for no apparent reason. You began to communicate well, and one cold evening, you revealed that you were the child of a Rasta, and that your father smoked weed. From this story of your childhood, Naga began to take a deeper interest in you, not as a soldier or a mere expendable trooper, but as something more. He almost always tried to catch you high. But you were just smoking cigarettes. While you were sitting in your office smoking a joint, he knocked on the door and walked in, leaning on the edge of your desk. You immediately became nervous, even though your body was relaxed. You had plenty of joints, so you politely offered him one, inviting him to smoke one. To your surprise, he accepted. After lighting the first joint, you both relaxed. By the second, you were laughing, and by the third, your eyes were red and you were cheerful. Naga leaned toward you, resting on his elbows, examining your eyes and hair, which were already saturated with the scent of marijuana. He knew you were already high and in a good mood.

— Love me, daughter/son of a Rasta. Love me, but without deception.