Blackfeather Woods I came here to run it

Sheogorath licked his lips as she asked him of poisons, thinking about Cicero's abuse of them. He, not as much, though he had used them at times. But his experiences here were usually so fleeting that he preferred to use his time optimally, and not in the same kind of haze he usually looked through from the back seat.

"I take that as a no," he said with a sparkle in his eyes. "I don't have much of a stash left anymore, but there's some plants that can hurt even in winter. We could look for some, if you'd like." He wasn't about to give her the textbook answer to 'what are poisons'; this one would be way more fun. He remembered when Cicero'd put poison ivy on his wounds — maybe hers were still fresh enough to try, even if the effects'd be less heavy in winter.